The Science of Evolution
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: For the last eight weeks Sherlock has been spending every available moment with Molly. So much so that she's at her wits end with the consulting detective. This one is a bit different, humor - romance - a little bit of adventure - and playing with science. More chapters to come.
1. Chapter 1

**_First off, please understand that Sherlock will be OOC in this story, it's for the story and completely necessary. Thanks for reading. Lil_**

* * *

"John, you have to help me, you have to get me a break. If I don't get some time to myself I will lose my bloody mind." Molly pleaded as she sat in her office on her phone.

"Is he doing it again?" her friend asked.

"Again? He never stopped!" Molly huffed. "I can't get a minute's rest. He's here or at my flat 24/7! Most of the time I can deal with it but I have plans and I really don't want him to interfere again."

"Right, right...I did try talk to him. He said that I wouldn't understand and then he changed the subject. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"I have a date tomorrow night. Is there anyway you can take him off my hands, just for one night? I've been really looking forward to this. I'm actually shocked he left me alone long enough for Dr. Burgess to ask me out, been waiting for weeks. Just one night, please," she pleaded.

"Okay, hopefully I can find a case or I should say find one he'll actually take. I can't believe he's so disinterested in cases lately. Barring that... oh hell I'll come up with something. Enjoy your date Molls."

"Thanks John, love you!"

"You too."

Molly hung up and exhaled deeply, feeling much better for all of two seconds until her office door opened and Sherlock Holmes burst in.

"A date? And you thought I wouldn't find out?" He practically shouted, his deep baritone filling the tiny space.

"Sherlock! I think I've just wet myself!" Molly exclaimed as she tried to catch her breath. "Eavesdropping on my conversation? Really? A new low!"

"No date for you tomorrow Dr. Hooper, we have plans," he said smugly as he planted himself in the chair in front of her desk.

Molly took a deep breath and tried to rein in her anger. She had tried yelling at him, she had tried pleading with him, she had even tried calling Greg and having the consulting detective removed from her flat at one point (the DI thought it was some kind of joke.) Finally she decided it was better for everyone if she just stayed calm. She couldn't really even goad him into a fight anymore. He'd just calmly blow her off, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be constantly in her presence.

"Sherlock," She smiled sweetly (though completely fake) "I'm going on a date with Dr. Burgess tomorrow night. I won't be spending the evening with you. I am very sorry. Please leave and stop listening to my phone calls. Good day."

"No," he said calmly looking so unconcerned you'd think he didn't care one bit.

Molly closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her index fingers. Whatever mental breakdown Sherlock as experiencing was driving her straight into one herself. Eight weeks of this, unrelenting Sherlock Holmes night and day. Once was a time she would have welcomed this with open arms. But not now... _no, now I just want some peace and quiet and to possible get boned by a radiologist._ Oh, how she wished she could enjoy her inappropriate pun, but she was no mood for laughing.

He barely took cases anymore. He would only leave her side for an eight or higher. Meaning two bodies or more, missing at least three limbs (collectively.) She almost hated that she knew his rating system. She was tired, she was annoyed and she was frankly horny. Spending nearly every waking hour (and some sleeping ones too) with the man of your sexual fantasy without any hope of um... completion, wasn't doing her libido any good. She was ready to pop!

His moods, once mercurial, now were so much more measured and even that she was almost convinced he was taking some kind of medication. She had found nothing when she had asked him if she could make sure he'd not slipped back in to his drug habit. She felt a little bad for extending the testing to prescription medication, but she had to know. She'd always been able to read Sherlock, but lately his steady demeanor was really throwing her off.

"Sherlock..." She looked up to try, once again and explain her need for alone time, only to find her office void of the consulting detective. "Enjoy it while it lasts," she mumbled to herself.

Ten minutes later she got a text from Dr. Burgess canceling their date. She put her head down on her desk and cried.

* * *

As Sherlock walked out of the radiology department with a satisfied smile on his face his mobile rang.

"Mycroft."

"How are things progressing with your target?" His brother asked.

"Ew, would you stop calling her that? It sounds so sinister."

"Okay, would you prefer I call her your future girlfriend?" he mocked.

"You're right, target's better. Didn't your people come up with names for all of this?"

"Yes of course they did. I explained all this at great length and will not be doing so again on an unsecured mobile device. Go through that roll-a-dex of yours and pull it out."

Sherlock stopped walking. "Did you just call my Mind Palace a roll-a-dex? You showed me how to build the bloody thing... remember?"

"All too well, brother dear. I didn't, however, tell you to give such a ridiculous name. So, how are things with Miss Hooper?"

"That's Dr. Hooper and they are progressing," Sherlock answered sounding both irritated and bored with the conversation.

"Sherlock, you need to explain this to her. She's one of us, she'll understand."

"Like I did?" Sherlock questioned.

"You, are a stubborn child. This should have been taken care of years ago, and would have been if you had listened to me when I told you about it after Baskerville."

"You only suspected Molly, a fact that I myself recently confirmed. Frankly she wouldn't have believed me then anymore than I did you. She's almost ready, in the mean time I'm keeping other possible suitors at bay and spending as much time with her as possible." He stopped to hail a cab. "Is there anything else or did you just call to give me dating advice?"

"No, just do it Sherlock before you screw this up. She's yours and you need to claim her."

Sherlock gave Molly a little space knowing she'd be angry that he made that simple minded radiologist cancel their date. He had to make plans anyway. As much as he hated to admit it Mycroft was right. It was almost time. He needed to talk to Molly and soon. His biological need to be with her was becoming uncontrollable and he could tell she was feeling the effects as well.

Mycroft was worried for nothing though. This was Molly. She had been infatuated with him for years. Of course it wasn't mere infatuation, how were they have to know that though? He had spent the last two months learning everything he needed to know about her, her likes and her dislikes, and now he was confident he could play her better than his Stradivarius.

Molly wasn't what everyone thought she was... she was quite complex. He had actually know this for years. His brother was right about one thing though, he should have done this a long time ago. Although with the complications in his life, when would he really have had the time? Now he was able to do it at his pace, get to know her in a whole new way. This was an exciting new experiment and he couldn't wait to start in earnest. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the cabby informed him they had reached his destination.

He bound up the stairs only to find John Watson making tea in the kitchen of 221B.

"John, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Sherlock said as he removed his trademark Belstaff and scarf.

John came out with two mugs of tea in his hands handing one to his best friend then taking his customary seat.

"Can't a man come and have a chat with his best mate?" John said as he cooled his tea.

"Of course," Sherlock said. "Except in this case Molly called you and asked you to intervene on behalf of her date with the half-witted Dr. What's His Name. They give out medical degrees to practically anyone these days. Though in fairness, how hard can Radiology be? Only requirement is vision."

"Listen..." John started.

"No need John. I already took care of it. Spoke with the imbecile not a half hour ago and explained that it wasn't in his best interest to continue pursuing Dr. Hooper." Sherlock smiled and took a drink of his tea.

John studied his best friend. Sherlock was either having some kind of breakdown or he was on drugs (which he dismissed because Molly made him pee in a cup several times over the last eight weeks) or he was hopelessly in love with his pathologist.

"So you and Molly?" John said after releasing a deep breath.

"Me and Molly what?"

"Sherlock, what do you expect us to think. You won't leave her alone," John asked.

"She's alone right now isn't she? I'm here having a boring conversation with you."

"Look, if you fancy Molly just tell her and stop tormenting the poor girl," John said leaning in with his elbows on his knees.

Sherlock had considered telling John about the situation, even though Mycroft had given him strict instructions not to, he could care less. John Watson was the exception to many rules. However, he felt he couldn't tell him until he talked to Molly, it was only fair. It was a shame too, there were aspects of this endeavor in which he would undoubtedly be of assistance.

"John, this is one of those instances in which you will have to trust me. This is a fair bit more complicated that _fancying a girl_. Though you aren't completely off base."

"See, I don't understand you when you talk like that," John said leaning back and resting his head on his hand.

"Not surprising."

"Sherlock, you are driving her spare! She was really looking forward to this date. What does that tell you?"

"That her taste in men hasn't improved with age," Sherlock said without missing a beat.

"Sherlock! It's not your place to tell Molly who she can date. It's not your place to tell Molly if she can go out with her friends. And, I can't even believe I have to say this, but it's not your place to..." John looked down and back up. "Did you really ask about family's medical history? Knowing that her mum died not one year ago! Why do you even need to know that?"

Sherlock was looking off in the distance, John thought he was finally getting to him. "You're right John, I shouldn't have asked that. I can easily access that information through Mycroft. It was very insensitive of me. I will be more careful in the future." Sherlock jumped up. "Anything else?" he asked brightly.

"What the hell's gotten into you? You don't go poking into your friend's medical history, even you have to know that's crossing a line!" John was on his feet and dangerously close to his best friend now. "Listen to me mate, that woman risked everything for you and you are making her a nervous wreck. I have no idea what's going on with you but you better back off and give her some space before you push her too far and lose her for good." John eased back and straightened his jumper. "Think about someone else for once in your life." He regretted it as soon as he said it, but he was pissed and he didn't care right then. He stormed out the door.

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_**Please review, thanks for reading.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here's chapter 2, enjoy... I own nothing.**_

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Molly had enjoyed four and a half blissful Sherlock-free hours. She knew deep down it wouldn't last, but ever the optimist she hoped he was giving her the night off. She was wrong. Gathering up the last of her things she turned off the lights in her office. When she opened her door to enter the main room, there he stood in all his glory.

It scared her half to death.

"Fuck me!" she screamed dropping her bag and coat.

Sherlock chuckled.

With a hand over her heart Molly said, "One day I will sit down and calculate the years you have cost me with your sneaking about, Sherlock Holmes. My heart stops at least twice a week."

He bent down and retrieved her items. "Oh Molly, you're a scientist and a brilliant one at that. You know that's not how the cardiovascular system works."

He helped her with her put her coat on. "Yes, well maybe I'll make a study of it, write a paper. It will get published and I will become famous. More famous than you. You'll just be a foot-note... the man that shortened the brilliant life of Dr. Molly Hooper." She said turning to square up to him. She was of course being cheeky, but Sherlock suddenly looked very serious.

Sherlock put his hands on Molly's shoulders. "I would never want any harm to come to you Molly. I want you to live a long and happy life," he said looking at her with so much intensity she thought she might melt on the spot.

"I-I know that Sherlock. I was only teasing," she said as she wiggled and he released his what had become a very firm grip on her.

"Right. Okay, so shall we?" Sherlock said turning to go.

"Um, shall we what? I'm still mad at you."

He stopped, holding open the door. "You were just teasing me Molly, really, so hot and cold."

"Pfff! Me? I'm hot and cold? Sherlock, what is all of this? Why are you stalking me?"

"If this were stalking, I assure you you'd have no idea. As it is you are always aware of my whereabouts, as I am yours. Quite the opposite of stalking I would say."

Molly threw up her arms in defeat and marched towards the door. They were silent as they walked out of the hospital and Sherlock hailed a cab. Molly wouldn't admit it but there were some advantages to having Sherlock around all the time. For instance, she was never want for a cab. He would hold up his hand one would magically appear. Molly often thought if superpowers really existed, this would be his. Well that and the deduction thing. Another plus, was that suddenly Sherlock was paying for said cabs... all the time. In the past Sherlock often left Molly to pay the cab fair, but that too changed about eight weeks ago.

"Hungry?" he asked breaking Molly out of her thoughts as they rode away from St. Barts.

"There's no way I can get a break tonight is there?" she asked, her head resting on the back of the seat and her eyes closed.

"We could play this game or you could just tell me what you want to eat Molly. Frankly I find the game tedious," Sherlock said thumbing his phone.

"I don't care. Pizza?"

"Ick, no. I let you talk me into that once. Never again. Indian?" He was still looking at his phone.

"Did you really just say ick? And why did you even ask if you don't want my opinion?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sometimes Molly Hooper was more argumentative than John Watson. This was taking all the patience he possessed. "Okay Molly. Pizza it is. You like cheese, no toppings, as I recall."

"We ate pizza once like a month ago and you remember how I like it?" She turned her head to look at him.

"It's pizza _without_ any toppings, hardly Bayes' theorem Molly." He punched at his phone for a few more seconds. "There, done."

"How much?" she asked, and was promptly ignored. One more positive... Sherlock's deep pockets seem to extent to dinner's, lunches, the occasional breakfast and lots and lots of crisps and coffee. Molly shrugged, she might as well get something out of this unorthodox... whatever it was. She certainly wasn't in the mood to argue over free pizza.

Ten minutes after they got to Molly's flat the pizza arrived. They ate and watched some program that Sherlock hated. He explained this at great length while Molly did her best not to beat him over the head with the remote. Finally she had had enough.

"I could get a restraining order!" she bit out in the middle of one of his more descriptive complaints about the show's writing.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I think I will. Tomorrow I will go down and file for a restraining order. I'll make sure you have to stay at least five hundred yards away from me at all times," she said still looking at the inane TV show.

"On what grounds? That I buy you dinner or that I always make sure you get home safe?" Sherlock said sitting up on the edge of the sofa.

Molly huffed. "How about for the fact that we haven't been apart for more than two hours in the last eight weeks?"

"Well that's not true. Just today I left you alone for four hours and thrity-eight minutes," he said picking up the dinner dishes and trotting off to the kitchen. "And often times I leave after you fall asleep. See, you are alone much more than you think," he said with a bit of whimsy that only served to further Molly's rage.

"Argh! Sherlock Holmes!" Molly followed, he had his back to her and was putting the dishes in the sink. "What the hell is this? Hm? Why won't you let me go on any dates? Why are you always at my flat? Or at Barts? Why are you always buying me food? Asking me personal questions? I can't take it, I've been patient but..."

Molly was cut off by Sherlock turning on her with a huge, warm smile and... hugging her. _Hugging? Really? Sherlock Holmes hugs?_ He pulled back and released her completely. "I'm sorry Molly. You're right. You are. Just give me one more night and I'll explain everything. Tomorrow I'll pick you up after you're shift and everything will be clear." With that he went to the sitting room gathered his coat and scarf and left without another word.

"What the Hell?" Molly asked out loud.

* * *

Molly tried to concentrate all day but she couldn't get Sherlock's behavior off of her mind. Lately he'd been odd and that's saying something for Sherlock Holmes. However last night he'd reached a new level of strangeness. It had her itching all day. Itching to find out what he was going to tell her.

The worst things kept popping up in her mind. Was he still going to be punished for shooting Magnussen? She was fairly certain all that exile business had been taken care of after he had dealt with the broadcast and managed to root out the domestic terrorist behind it. But who knows? No one had told her anything at first. Then all of a sudden she was being ushered into a sleek, black car by several government agents and rushed off to Baker Street. She had to stay there under the watchful eye of the of four black suited men who apparently did not have the ability to speak, while Sherlock was off solving yet another "crime of the century." Really how many of those could there be?

No, that's not what this felt like. This felt very personal... which led her to her next chilling possibility... Was Sherlock sick? Did he have some life-threatening illness. Was he simply saying his goodbye to her? As she thought over this, she noticed tears filling her protective eye gear and had to pause her autopsy to take a moment to collect herself. She was being ridiculous. She'd know soon enough.

She cleaned her goggles and took a couple deep breaths. The man had officially driven her mad. She laughed to herself. The most likely conclusion was that he was simply off his nut. He spent one too many lonely nights in the closed confines of 221B Baker Street messing with dangerous chemicals and it had finally made the man loopy! She laughed again.

Feeling slightly better she finished the autopsy and got on with her job. She couldn't worry about Sherlock when there were dead bodies to be sliced and seven thousand forms that needed filled out.

Soon it was seven pm and this time she was ready for his looming presence outside her office.

"Didn't scare me today did you?" she said as she pulled her door shut.

"I would hope not, since I informed you yesterday that I would be here at precisely this time. Ready?"

"Where are we going Sherlock? Should I change?" she asked nervously, now that the time was upon her she wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore.

"No, you look fine. You always look nice Molly. You could stand to gain a pound or two but nothing we can do about that at the moment. Let's go." He turned and she followed him to the door.

"I have gained two pounds since you've been constantly coming around Sherlock. That's entirely you're fault. Never had someone feed me up so much in my life, not even my mother," she said quickening her pace to keep up with his long strides.

"Three."

"Pardon?" She stopped walking.

"Three pounds. And you have horrible eating habits Molly. I've simply been making sure you're well fed."

Sherlock stopped when he realized she wasn't behind him. "What?" He said turning to find her standing with her hands on her hips.

"First of all, it's two bloody pounds! And secondly, how do you suppose that you have any room to lecture anyone on healthy eating habits?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went to her. "I didn't mean it as an insult Molly. Did you not just hear me say that you could stand to gain more? And yes, I'm aware that I have don't eat well. I have been doing better lately, wouldn't you say?" He smiled and started walking again.

Molly once again had to practically jog to catch up with him. "Okay so where are we going?"

Sherlock just walked on with determination.

"You really are irritating, you know that?" she growled.

"I may have heard that before, but I probably deleted it."

When they got into a cab and he gave the cabby the address to his flat Molly huffed. "Are you kidding me? I could have just met you at Baker Street."

"The strop you've been in lately, you might have just as likely fled. I don't like to take chances," he said staring out the window.

"You are a strange bird Sherlock Holmes. When have I ever told you no?" she asked.

"Yes, just remember that Molly," he said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said very quickly.

When they got to 221B Sherlock stopped at Mrs. Hudson's door.

"Oh hello you two. Any big adventures today?" She asked giving Molly a hug.

"No, but I'm not taking callers. Very important meeting with Molly. See to it we aren't disturbed." He turned and headed up the stairs.

"I'm your landlady not your secretary, I'll have you know." Martha yelled up at him. Molly mouthed 'sorry.'

When they got to the sitting room Sherlock took Molly's coat and hung it up with his. "Please take a seat," he said motioning to the sofa. "I'll be right back." He disappeared down the hall for a minute or so then returned with a folder. "Okay Molly. Let's talk about evolution."

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_**Thanks for reading, reviews are welcome.** _


	3. Chapter 3

**_I own nothing_**

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"Evolution? As in Darwin and what not?" Molly asked.

"As in evolutionary biology Molly," he replied.

"Okay, it's been a while and I only had to cover the basics."

"That should do," he said energy flowing off of him in waves. "How much do you remember?"

"Well, I'm a pathologist Sherlock, not an evolutionary biologist. But I think I could keep up."

"Right... okay. So what if, the human race had already evolved to the next level of existence? Yes we are always evolving, but what if like many times in hominid evolution, we've experienced a shift?" Molly turned her head slightly and leaned in. "What if some, not all, but some humans weren't exactly the same as others? They were something more?"

Molly thought for a moment. "That would be remarkable Sherlock. That's something I've actually considered before, though only briefly. The idea that instead of noticing the change millions of years later we could, at the point of change, recognize it and capitalize on it. That is assuming it's advantageous. But that brings us back to Darwin and natural selection. If it made it as far as that it would, theoretically, be advantageous."

Sherlock's eyes were wild. He moved to sit on the coffee table in front of Molly putting the file down next to him. His breathing was slightly labored and he was a bit flushed. "Exactly Molly. I knew you'd catch on quickly."

"Sherlock, is this about a research project? It's not my field of study but I'd love to work on something like this. Is that what all this has been about?" She was looking at him with excited eyes.

"Well not exactly." He stood up and paced the room. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. Are you familiar with the Human Genome Project?"

"Sure, of course. Very exciting."

"Yes, well during the course of the project some surprising discoveries were made. Just as Down Syndrome is believed to be caused by a trisomy of the twenty-third chromosome, the HGP found, in some individualizes, a trisomy of the long arm of the chromaome six. The one theorized to be responsible for intelligence. After further investigation these same individualizes proved to be genetically different in other ways. Molly are you following me?" He watched and waited for her excitement to continue.

"I think you are saying that..." she asked.

"Yes," he interrupted his excitement getting the better of him. "Everything you just proposed in theory... has happened in reality."

"No!"

Sherlock blinked. "What do you mean no?"

"Surely we would've heard if something like that was uncovered. That would be impossible to hide."

Sherlock huffed. "Says the woman who kept the faked death of a minor celebrity secret for two years."

"Sherlock are you saying that there people on the planet that are a sub-species of the human race? Right here among us?"

"Yes."

Molly eyed him suspiciously. "Who?"

Sherlock paused before saying. "Me."

Molly stared wide eyed trying to reason this out. It was too fantastic to be true. The idea that humans had reached a new level in evolution. This would be remarkable if it were true. Surely Sherlock wouldn't propose something like this unless he had some kind of proof. Molly looked down at the folder on the coffee table. Sherlock didn't miss a thing.

"You want proof." I wasn't a question, he knew she'd need access to the information.

Molly shook her head. "I'm not trying to..."

"No, that's what the folder's for Molly." He studied her for a moment. "Go ahead. Pick it up."

Molly picked up the folder and slowly opened it. Sherlock left her alone and went to make tea while she read through the contents of what it held. He knew it was a lot of information, even for Molly and her superior intellect. He himself had a hard time with parts of the theory, but once he fully understood it really was magnificent.

His nerves were on edge and he understood why. Molly had to absorb the information and except it. Then he had to tell her the important part...that she too was a part of this evolutionary advancement. She was just like him. After that he'd explain their part together and things could finally start moving forward. He was pleased that she seemed to be excited by the prospects of a higher level of human existence. He knew she wasn't easily frightened but a small part of him feared she might react negativity to the whole idea.

When the tea was done he took her a cup, she picked it up without looking up from the folder. He had strategically removed certain information from the file. Sherlock's analysis was there of course, confirming that his genetic make up was slightly different than the average human's. Also the initial findings from the HGP that started the investigation. But Sherlock had removed all information regarding the government's interest in _procreation._

Yes, the government of course, along with a group of scientists both publicly and privately funded, were somewhat invested in propagating the species with this new and improved brand of human. Sherlock was going to explain that part to Molly himself. Even though he didn't particularly care what the government wanted, he very much knew what_ he_ wanted and was quite excited about it, excited and a bit concerned. This could go very right or very wrong.

He refiled her tea when she finished her first cup. She never spoke, never asked a question. Sherlock just sat penitently waiting for her to close the folder and look at him.

She finally did. "So, what's the next part?"

Sherlock stared.

"What is it Sherlock? What does all of this have to do with me? You need something from me, I know you do," she said, no longer excited but rather a bit defensive.

"Only you Molly Hooper," he said.

"Me?" she asked. "I have to admit, I don't understand where my expertise would come into play. And even if it did surely Mycroft has access to more experienced pathologist than myself. This has your brother written all over it, figuratively of course," she said gesturing to the folder.

"No, not your expertise although don't downplay your experience Molly. You're the best pathologist I've ever met. No, I just need you."

Molly shook her head. "Sorry I'm not following."

"There are things I removed before you read the contents of the file. Things I thought were better explained."

"Yes, I noticed that."

"Of course you did," he said smiling proudly. "The Advantis as we are called, we seem to, as you read, have advanced sense. It explains why I can read a crime scene the way I can. Why I can tell when someone's lying. My sense of smell for instance, is heightened according to all the tests. I have 20/6 vision, in other words I can see at twenty feet what the average person can only see from six feet away. I also have perfect pitch and advanced hearing."

Molly laughed.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm just enjoying hearing you list all your attributes. Sounds like a job interview. Sorry, go ahead."

"Making a point here Molly. Our senses are heightened. Not all of them, not in every Advantis, it varies, of course as does intelligence. However there seems to be one common trait. It's the ability to sense others of our kind under _certain_ circumstances. The working theory is this is through a highly in-tuned awareness to our pheromones. You see our pheromones are different than average humans. In short we can smell each other."

"Why would you leave that part out? It's fascinating!"

He walked over to her and sat down next to her on the sofa. He watched as he had every time he had done this over the last several weeks (and yes many times before) however recently he had made a study of it, as Molly's pupils dilated. He picked up her wrist and took her pulse.

"Have you ever wondered why you are so attracted to me Molly?" he asked keeping a firm grip on her wrist.

"What are you talking about? What's with the non sequitur?" Molly nervously laughed.

"Oh come on. You had to have questioned it at least once. I'm the biggest asshole in the world. I'm rude, I'm moody, I'm arrogant. I've treated you so appallingly bad that you should have run away, screaming years ago, but here you are. Right here. You could have gotten out by marring that Tom fellow but no, you didn't. So why couldn't you do it Molly? Why not marry a perfectly nice bloke with a dog? Think about it."

Molly swallowed the burn in her throat and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Yes, Sherlock had been cruel in the past, but laying all of her feelings out like this along with her failed relationship with Tom... it was almost unthinkable. _Why was he saying this? He's telling you something Molly... listen..._ She told herself taking a deep breath.

Then it began to dawn on her. But she almost couldn't believe it.

"Are you saying..." She swallowed again. "Um, that I'm..." She furrowed her brow.

Sherlock beamed, he was holding both her hands now. "That's my girl."

Molly wrenched one hand free from Sherlock's grip and she rubbed her forehead. "But you couldn't know for sure. I looked at all you're blood work. This isn't just confirmed by sniffing each other out, you had multiple test run. It would have taken weeks."

"Took about six weeks for the blood work to come back." She didn't notice that he said _the_ blood work instead of _my_ blood work.

"Okay, but you can't be sure. I don't have any special abilities. Nothing like yours."

"You have better than perfect vision."

"Not uncommon," she replied.

"There's you high intelligence."

"Again not uncommon," she rebutted.

"Your manual dexterity is second to none, better than mine I'd wager."

"Fine, but it still proves nothing," she argued.

"Empathy," he simply said.

Molly just stared at him.

"Molly, I believe you possess a highly attuned empathic abilities," Sherlock said.

"**I'm Deanna fucking Troi!?**" she exclaimed.

"Who?"

"Would it have killed you to watch the telly once in you life?" She laughed. "I'm not empathic Sherlock. This is insane."

"I disagree Molly. You can always tell when I'm troubled and you always know what I need. I can hide from the rest of the world but I've never been able to hide from you, even when I try vary hard. You can read people and you know what they need to hear. You know what people are feeling. I'd be willing to bet it's why you chose to work with the dead. Sensing the pain of the chronically ill or dying would have been too much for your senses. I have no proof about this other than my observations but it stands to reason if our senses can be heightened other abilities can be as well. I'm certain you are empathic Molly."

For her part Molly listened trying to process his rapid-fire speech, still quite dumbfounded.

He leaned closer. "And since you are empathic, you can probably tell what I'm feeling right now. I dare say, you've always known... even when I didn't. Even if you, yourself have a hard time believing it."

"Sherlock, you're losing me again. I don't understand."

"It seems possible for some Advantis to be able to find their perfect genetic partner. Their _soul mate_ for lack of a better term. In these instances the biological need to pair off can be somewhat... demanding, almost overwhelming Molly. Think about it, it makes sense. Evolution enabled us to procreate with others of out kind."

Molly looked at Sherlock for some hint of a joke, a scheme anything other than what it seemed like he was proposing, because it seemed for all the world like he was proposing that they were _meant_ to be together. The idea may be wonderful, but she had just been given a huge pile of information and then told she was might be a part of a new evolutionary offshoot. She had a lot of data to process (and she wasn't even going to touch the word procreate.) Not an easy thing to do and even harder when Sherlock was looking at her like... well like that.

"Sherlock, are you saying that you and I are..." she started.

"Yes, Molly. Since you're empathic you'd be feeling the pull more that others in the group. If I can feel it, you must be experiencing it as well. Don't you feel it Molly?" He leaned in close, close enough to... kiss her. Molly jumped off of the sofa.

"Sherlock!" she said as she raced to the other side of the room, near the fireplace. "This, this is too much. I-I don't even know if I'm a part of this yet and you're ready to..." She turned around and found him standing right behind her. "start something that will change things between us. Do you understand that? Yes, I've always been attracted to you, but that might be nothing more than simple infatuation. It can't have escaped your notice that you're a good looking man, and you go around saving lives and being brilliant. What's a girl to do?" She ended with a false laugh.

Sherlock advanced on her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Molly, you are an Advantis. I took a sample of your blood weeks ago and have already had it tested."

"You what?!" Molly yelled as she shrugged off his hands and pushed him back. "You took my blood without asking me?"

Sherlock looked guilty for a split second. "I needed the proof Molly, I knew you wouldn't believe me when I came to you."

Molly stared at him for several seconds. "Sherlock, you have some serious boundary issues. Are you going to tell me how you got my blood without my knowledge?"

"I drugged you're tea, and drew your blood from the back of your knee so you wouldn't see the wound." He waited for the fallout, when none came except for a glare, he continued. "I know, I know and I'm sorry. I just wanted you to believe me and the tests take six weeks to come back. I was already sure. I... Molly? Don't you feel it?" he said sounding very much not like himself.

Molly walked over and sat down on Sherlock's chair, her mind reeling. _So much information... so much to process... so much to think about_... she still had questions. "There's more," she said, it was a statement not one of her many questions.

"Yes, there is. But I might have given you enough for one night. Except this, now that you know you have to be careful Molly. Mycroft suspects that we may become targets if this information were exposed."

"Of course. It's never simple," she said cradling her head in her hands.

"No, it never really is." He watched her rubbing her hands over her head. "Molly, are you hungry?"

She sighed. "I don't know, maybe. I'm pissed at you about the blood Sherlock." She sat back.

"Understandable, but you've had a long day and I know you skipped lunch. Please let me feed you?" he pleaded.

"Fine."

They ordered some Thai and managed some semi-normal conversation during dinner, of course coming back to the matter at hand several time but managed to avoided most of the more _uncomfortable_ aspects. Molly was in the kitchen washing up when Sherlock decided he could avoid it no longer.

"Molly, are we going to talk about it?" He was standing behind her with his hands in his pockets.

She dried her hands off and slowly turned around. "I don't know Sherlock." She tossed the towel on the table. "What exactly do you want from me?"

_How could she not see now? He knew how she felt about him, now she had the conformation that he... wait.._. "Molly don't you understand? I feel the same as you do."

Molly shook her head. "You seem to think I'm empathic. If I am, than why do I doubt you? Why do I feel like you're about to rip out my heart?" She looked up at him with teary eyes.

Sherlock took Molly's tiny hands in his and smiled. "I'm so sorry. I know you have no reason to trust me Molly, but you can trust yourself. I want this and I hope you come to understand that we are meant to be together." He brought both of her hands up and kissed them. "Stay here tonight. It's late, you're off tomorrow and I don't plan on sleeping tonight. Take my bed Molly, get some rest." Then he pulled her in for a hug.

Molly rested her head on his chest and listened as his heart rate sped up. _Could this be happening after all this time? Was it really this simple? And if so, then why am I terrified?_ She leaned back. "I'll stay. I have a lot more questions though, can we talk in the morning?"

"Of course, let me get you something to sleep in," he said, then he kissed her temple.

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**_ Reviews make me smile... Thanks for reading... Lil_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_I own nothing. The first 17 chapters are not betaed, I forgot to mention that... all mistakes are mine._**

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Molly found a dressing gown on the back of Sherlock's door and slipped it on before she made her way out of his room the next morning. She wasn't sure how she felt about finding _new woman's pajamas_ (in her size, although she would have liked them a bit bigger) laying on the pillow when she'd gone to bed the night before. When he said he'd get her something to wear she assumed he meant something of his. She added that to the list of things that needed to be addressed. She would have put her clothes back on, but they had disappeared in the night. He is a strange man. One thing she was sure of was that she wasn't walking out into the middle of Sherlock's flat wearing skin tight boy shorts and an equally tight tank top. _What the hell was he thinking?_

Okay, she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking, however it was still simply too much to wrap her brain around. After an evening of so much information and Sherlock's... _admission... proposition... declaration? Still not clear on exactly what he wants from me...commitment, sex... what?_ Then after the big dinner (as per usual Sherlock was right, she didn't realize how hungry she was) Molly drifted off to sleep in what she could only assume was the most expensive bed she'd ever laid upon in her entire life. It also smelled of Sherlock...in short, it was heaven. Now she had to get back to the matter at hand, all the while wishing she could do so in something other than tight fitting night things and Sherlock's dressing gown (which also smelled distractingly like him.)

When she opened the door she was immediately met by the consulting detective. "You're up!"

She folded her arms across her chest (she wasn't wearing a bra and didn't much like it.) "Ah, showing off those detective skills before I've even had my coffee."

"There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom for you. Join me when you're done, I have breakfast for us," he said quickly, then left her in the hallway.

Molly shook her head and headed for the loo. After she used the toilet she found the toothbrush and cleaned her teeth. Standing looking in the mirror she tried to calm herself down. Sherlock had stayed at her flat many times (especially over the last several weeks) this should be no different. She needed to just take a breath and go eat breakfast as they always did.

But of course this was different. Everything was different after last night's conversation, and that wasn't her fault. She had given up on Sherlock years ago and they had settled into a very comfortable friendship. What he was proposing was completely uncharted territory, and dangerous too. That's why this felt different.

She wished she could have seen this coming somehow. John had jokingly suggested that Sherlock fancied her on more than one occasion when they had discussed his unusual behavior. She really never considered it once. He had been kind and attentive but never showing a hint of romantic interest. At one point she thought it was all part of some strange experiment, she felt a bit like a mouse in a maze at times. Finishing up her morning routine she realized, as much as she'd like to hide in the bathroom all day, it really wasn't an option, so she made her way to the sitting room.

"Okay, I have scones, muffins and here's you're coffee," Sherlock said as he handed her a mug. She took a drink, even though she had just cleaned her teeth she could tell it was just how she took it (her favorite flavored creamer already added.)

"Thanks, this is nice," she said with a fake smiled as she sat down.

"You're terribly uncomfortable Molly," Sherlock said looking a bit disappointed.

"Um, well... sorry," she sighed.

Sherlock huffed. "That's part of the reason I've been spending so much time with you. I'd hoped it would help squelch any awkwardness when I suggested a change in the dynamic of our relationship." Sherlock looked down to pick imaginary lint off his trousers.

"Have you ever met me? Awkward is sort of my trademark." Molly's attempt at a joke did nothing to ease the tension in the room. As she studied Sherlock for a moment she realized as annoying as the last two months had been that perhaps it had been some kind of misguided courtship.

"Okay, stop," she said and Sherlock looked up. "We're friends and we've known each other for what, six years?"

"Six years, eight months, and twenty-two days. Would you like the hourly breakdown as well?"

Molly smiled. "No, that will do. This whole thing is very new to me. I'm trying very hard to assimilate everything, understand?"

"Yes, yes of course. It's just... I'm not uncomfortable because I'm unsure. I'm uncomfortable because you seem to be. And frankly uncomfortable is not the reaction I had been hoping for," he said running his hands through his freshly washed curls. "I had really hoped after everything we'd been through together, that this would be the easy part."

His eyes, Molly realized, were soft and vulnerable not unlike the night he asked her for her help to beat Moriarty, the night he had asked her to convince his best friend (and the world) that Sherlock Holmes was dead. She knew that this wasn't a part of himself that the detective allowed many people to observe and she felt honored to be one such person. It still didn't completely ease her mind.

Sherlock, for his part, was almost starting to doubt himself... _could I have been wrong? Have her feelings changed? Can a door kept closed for too long never be truly opened? He had to make her see._

"Molly, I understand that you're still hesitant about this whole situation. But let me explain from the beginning, maybe that will help."

She nodded her head.

"Mycroft came to me after the Baskerville case and tried to tell me about this whole thing. I completely blew him off. Told him he'd watched one too many science fiction shows. The two of you could bond over Doctor Who, you should know." He laughed nervously. "Not long after that I was throwing myself off the top of St. Barts and then I was off destroying Moriarty's web."

Molly gasped.

"Oh, yes. Very good Molly. James was one of us, in a matter of speaking. It's why I thought, for a split second, that he might have been behind the broadcast. We are a bit harder to kill than our predecessors. Don't worry though, we've been very thorough, he's gone." He took a deep breath and continued. "Mycroft kept me informed about the group and the research while I was on the mission. By then I, of course believed him, after getting the full story about Moriarty."

Molly gave him an odd look.

"That's for another time." He shook his head. "So much information. Anyway, when I got back I found myself so wrapped up with Magnussen and Appledore, and John and Mary I didn't have time to focus on any of this." He laughed. "It was Mycroft, actually, who pointed you out to me."

"What do you mean Mycroft pointed me out?"

"While I was gone he asked about you and the nature of our relationship. I could tell he'd been looking into you're records. He always vets my associates but he had gone very deep with you. Then came the personal questions. I knew what he was insinuating. He wasn't even being careful. Doesn't matter. I came back and you had Tom and I thought you were happy. Then, of course, the drugs and the bridesmaid and I nearly got sent to my death... so many things got in our way." He jumped off of the sofa, getting agitated. "But now... can't you see? It's us, you and me? I'm trying to explain this as best as I can but... God Molly. Can't you smell me, I can smell you." He walked toward the window.

Molly couldn't figure out what had riled him up so quickly. She wondered, perhaps if it was Magnussen. He hadn't spoken about the shooting much at all in their time together. When he did, however, he always seemed to slip back a bit into the mercurial Sherlock she had known for six years. As for this heightened awareness to pheromones, she was still very dubious. Molly got up and walked up behind him. "Sherlock, I'm sorry, I don't understand how any of this works. All I can smell is your aftershave, but..."

He turned on her. "I don't wear aftershave or cologne Molly. I never have. It interferes at crime scenes and also annoys me, I assume because of my heightened senses.

"Oh." As soon as she said it Sherlock's hands were on her face.

"That's just me Molly."

"Oh God!" she said. "You're gonna kiss me now aren't you?"

He didn't answer, not exactly. He slowly bent his face to hers almost touching but not quite. "This is how it works," he whispered just before softly pressing his lips to hers. When their lips met Molly immediately felt dizzy and lightheaded, she steadied herself with her hands on Sherlock's hips. Sherlock sighed into her mouth and it felt like he was breathing for her. Sherlock lightly brushed away tears she didn't remember shedding before he pulled back to look at her stunned face.

"See," he said. "You believe me now, don't you? Isn't it wonderful Molly?" He kissed her again this time grazing her bottom lip with his teeth lightly gently asking for permission.

Molly couldn't believe she was wrapped in Sherlock's arms and engulfed in the most overwhelming kiss of her life. When she felt his teeth nip at her lip she gladly opened for him. That's when she felt, even more than heard, him growl. He lowered his hands to her back and pressed her against his chest as his tongue fully investigated Molly's mouth. They finally broke once again but Sherlock held her close.

Molly's breathing was a bit labored from the thorough snogging. "Wow."

"Yes, wow." For two highly intelligent people they suddenly seemed to have a limited vocabulary. He was smiling like an idiot. He took a deep breath. "Don't you see? There's nothing wrong with me Molly. I'm not a freak, I'm not a sociopath, and you are like me. We don't have to be alone anymore."

It all finally came together for Molly right at that moment. Being an Advantis answered so many questions for Sherlock. He had isolated himself, from most of the world, because he thought there was something wrong with him. However, with this discovery he allowed himself to be a part of something much larger. Now, he could accept what she had all ways offered him, because he could accept himself.

Molly smiled. "I do Sherlock, I understand."

Sherlock nodded his head.

"I know, it's okay. We'll do this together. Whatever the hell this is, although I'm certain there is more you're not telling me." Molly hated ruining their moment but there was something he was holding back, she could feel it and she needed to get the full story.

Sherlock released his hold. "Um, yes. Well... the government would like us, that is paired Advantis to, procreate... to have children."

Molly backed away a bit having felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her head. "Like... I'm to be... breeding stock."

"No, no-no!" Sherlock reached for her but she backed away more. "This is what the government wants, not me!"

"The government, as in you're brother, who is undoubtedly an Advantis as well."

"Yes, he has been putting some pressure on me since my pardon." Sherlock looked guilty.

"How many children does Mycroft have?" Molly asked accusingly.

"Anthea is pregnant. It required in vitro. Rare, as most of the group seem to be quite fertile."

Molly nodded, it seemed like every time she turned around there was a new group of variables to consider. She was beginning to think Sherlock was right about one thing, now that he had brought it to her attention she understood why she felt so much emotion from others and for them as well. She could feel waves flowing off of Sherlock, there was not a hint of a mask present. He was hurting. She could tell he was afraid of losing her at this moment. Afraid that this development would be the end their burgeoning relationship.

"Okay, I understand Sherlock, I do. I'm not saying that I'm going to let myself get pregnant any time soon. But I believe you. Come here." She held out her arms and he rushed to her. They held each other tight.

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	5. Chapter 5

**_I own nothing, again no beta._**

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After some arguing, Molly convinced Sherlock she needed to go home. As much as she'd like to stay there in Sherlock's arms all day, she needed to check on Toby (she had phoned her neighbor and asked her to look in on him but couldn't ask her to do it two nights in a row) and she still had a lot to think about. Molly explained that they needed to take things slowly, she asked him for patience and he agreed. Then he reluctantly retrieved her work clothes from Mrs. Hudson, who had apparently laundered them (thus salving _that_ mystery) and gave her a lingering farewell kiss before she left. The last twenty-four hours had been completely overwhelming. Sherlock and Molly had a lot to talk about, but two solid months of the detective had worn her to a nub and more than anything else she needed to reflect on all the new information.

By the time she made it to her flat she realized how right Sherlock had been about many things. His appeal for instance; had always been deeper than just attraction. She was clearly drawn to him on some unconscious level, it made sense now. She also understood Sherlock's relief, because belonging to this group explained things for her as well. All those years thinking she was some daffy school-girl crushing on the maddeningly attractive, yet unattainable man, it was simple biology. And she was right all along... they _were_ meant to be together, or so it seemed.

When she got home Molly went about feeding and playing with Toby. The spoiled feline was none too happy with her absence the night before and had expressed as much by peeing on both of her bathroom rugs and the carpet just outside her bedroom_ Damn, he's been busy._ At least she had shut her bedroom door or it would have been the middle of her bed, and not for the first time.

She had just finished cleaning up the messes and putting in a load of laundry, when there was a knock at her door. She assumed it was Sherlock since she hadn't buzzed anyone up, wondering why he didn't just use his key. She opened her door without looking through the peephole. There she found an entirely different Holmes standing in the hallway of her building.

"Good afternoon Miss Hooper, may I come in?" he asked.

Molly thought for a moment. She was tired, she was overwhelmed and she had just spend an hour cleaning cat piss. She wasn't in the mood for what ever nonsense Mycroft Holmes was offering her today.

"No, you can't," she said holding the door tight. "I know why you're here and I'm not ready to talk to you about any of it. So you can take your_ Queen and Country_ speech and practice it on someone with more tolerance and less of a headache."

Mycroft's eyes widened only a fraction before the cool façade returned. "I've always been under the impression that you have a very high tolerance for just about anything, having put up with my brother's shenanigans all these years."

"The operative word there being your _brother_, not you. I've just been given a shite load of information to process and I don't need you to add to it. Sherlock and I will deal with this without your interference." She started to close the door.

Mycroft held it opened. "Miss Hooper, please do remember who keeps you safe at all times. Who watches over you and has an eye on you when my brother can't."

"Is that some kind of threat?"

"Of course not. I just thought you might show a little gratitude if you knew that the British government has had a security detail on you for over four years now. That's in large part thanks to me." He finished with a smarmy smile.

Molly smiled right back. "Oh thank you so much Mr. Holmes, for keeping me alive so I could breed with your little brother. You are so kind and thoughtful... I'll never be able to repay your benevolence." She shut the door but reopened it immediately. "And it's Doctor Hooper!" she yelled and slammed the door again.

_That didn't go well._ She thought as she sat on her sofa and wondered if 12:30 was too early in the day to start drinking. Then she realized she should call Sherlock before..._ who am I kidding? Mycroft will surely..._ That's when her chimed.

**I'm coming over-SH**

**Oh and I'm going to kill my brother-SH**

So much for having time to herself to process everything. Thirty-five minutes later Sherlock was knocking then letting himself into her flat.

"I knocked first, you notice?" he said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like it had been days, not hours since they'd seen each other.

"Mmm, yes he can be taught," she said with a smile.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked getting a glass and filling it with water.

"I'm fine you didn't have to come check on me. I'm hardly intimidated by Mycroft Holmes. Not anymore at least."

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, what did you say to him? He wouldn't tell me, just said to 'get you in line.'" Molly face was instantly furious. "To which I told him to fuck off and that I was about to call Mummy. Then he hung up."

"I wouldn't let him in." She walked to the sitting room Sherlock followed. She then replayed the short, angst-filled conversation. Sherlock was enraged by his brother's veiled threat (yes he agreed with Molly, it sounded like a threat to him as well) and delighted with the way she handled herself.

At the end of the story he picked Molly up and sat her on his lap and started kissing her neck. "Molly, if you want to take things slowly you're going to have to avoid being so sexy. Telling my brother that he's basically a wanker and kicking him out of your flat is one of the sexiest things you've ever done. And you've done some very sexy things, love." He went right back to kissing her neck this time adding some nibbling for good measure.

_Dear God Sherlock Holmes just called me love._ "Ahh, what else have I done that's so sexy?" she asked with what little brain she had left that wasn't mush from his lips and _oh!_ Now his hands were stroking one of her thighs and back.

"Hmm, lets see. I find the way you cut open a cadaver _very_ sexy," he said as his hand made it's way under her tee shirt, to tease the skin just above her yoga pants.

"Sherlock do you realize how creepy that should sound?"

"Yes, but it doesn't does it?" he asked before he kissed her.

She indeed realized it was not in the least bit creepy. Then she couldn't think anymore because she was suddenly pinned under Sherlock and he was grinding his substantial erection between her legs while he attacked her neck. _When did we switch positions?_

"Oh God Sherlock, we ahh, ohhh. We..." She tried to protest but he was palming her breast under her shirt and basically fucking her through her clothes. She was in trouble. "Oh, Sherlock maybe we should..." she started but Sherlock pulled back and put his forehead on hers.

"I know," he said with labored breath. "It's just... Molly I want you so bad." He kissed her cheek and rolled off the sofa and quickly walked to the bathroom.

Molly laid there trying to figure out if she was completely insane for not doing what they both clearly wanted to do right then and there... but she knew she was right to wait. There was too much going on and too many unknowns. _But damn, that felt effing good._ She got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and heard the shower running. She smiled realizing what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock emerged fifteen minutes later with a wet head. He smiled when she looked at him apolitically. "It's okay Molly, I've had a lot more time to get use to this whole thing than you've had. It wasn't fair of me to get so carried away. Sorry." He leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. I should go, Mycroft and I need to have a heart to heart and it would be better done in person."

"No, don't get into some huge confrontation with your brother because of me, please," she pleaded.

"Molly, this isn't going away. I have to deal with him. We will be doing this how we see fit and he can't be allowed to think he can manipulate us. I have to make that clear. Also if he comes near you again except to apologize, I will..."

"You will do nothing. Stop being such an over-protective man! Go talk to your brother, but do try to be civil." She kissed him and rushed him out the door before it could escalate once again.

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Sherlock had time to think about how to handle Mycroft on his way to his brother's office, however it didn't lessen his anger quit enough. He was just about ready to throttle the elder Holmes when was stopped by four agents just outside Mycroft's door.

"Are you kidding me? Is he so afraid of me that he sent agents _J_ through _M_ to stop me? MYCROFT!" he screamed. "I'm not leaving until we speak."

The door opened a crack and his brother's face appeared. "I'm not speaking to you until you calm down. Perhaps go home and have some nice herbal tea, take a nap, try some yoga. We'll talk tomorrow." He slammed the door shut. Sherlock tried to rush for the door again and again was held back by the agents.

Feigning defeat Sherlock put his hands up in the air and took a step back then straightened his suit and combed his fingers through his hair. "Fine, fine. I understand," he said to the agents. He turned and exited the building pulling out his mobile with a huge smile on his face.

Ten minutes later he was on his way back in, Mycroft's door wide open.

"Do you ever plan on growing up?" Mycroft asked.

"I think I'll take that tea now," Sherlock replied.

Mycroft motioned to the agent still standing in the room who immediately exited. _Trained killer and apparently also apt tea fetcher_, Sherlock thought.

"Sherlock, you called our mother. You called our mother because I wouldn't let you into my office. What the devil is wrong with you?"

Sherlock's good mood at out maneuvering his big brother vanished instantly. "Me? What's wrong with me? You went to Molly only hours after I explained things to her, you upset her and what's worse, you threatened her. I'm fairly certain the operative question here is what's wrong with _you_?"

"I didn't threaten your True One, Sherlock. You really need to get a hold of yourself," Mycroft said and Sherlock made a face. "Oh, don't! You know that's what she's called. Back to the point I was merely pointing out that she could show a little gratitude since I've been protecting her for years. I wasn't suggesting that I would stop at any point. And why in God's name wouldn't I go and speak with her? We need to get the testing started as soon as possible. You've wasted valuable time with your silly courtship. She needs to be impregnated. Have you consummated your relationship yet?"

Sherlock would have launched across the desk at him if it had not been his promise to his dear mother. "You are utterly disgusting, did you know that? I have no intention of telling you about anything personal that happens between myself and my _True One_." The last two words came out mockingly.

Mycroft laughed. "All these years of unrequited love and she rejected you? That is the best thing I've heard all day, maybe all year. And I didn't think I'd enjoy this conversation." His laughter continued.

Sherlock didn't want to do it but, the insufferable smile had to be wiped off of Mycroft's face. "Molly asked about you, you know. How many children you've fathered. I told her the truth," he said and waited for a reaction. Mycroft paled and his eyes bugged. It was completely silent in the office until a young man wheeled in a tea trolley and dutifully served the brothers their tea. Sherlock drank his with gusto and smiled all the while. Oh, he didn't care about his brother's sexual preferences, it was not his business nor any one else's for that matter. That was why he didn't hesitate to continue the lie when Molly asked, but he couldn't let Mycroft stew for a few more moments.

When the waiter left the room closing the door behind him Mycroft finally spoke. "You, are a bastard."

"And you are way off of you're game today brother. Do you really think I give two shits who you're screwing. I...am not you! I gave her the standard answer. It doesn't feel good to have you're personal life poked at though, does it? So just leave us be and allow this to progress naturally." Sherlock started to get up.

"You are brilliant Sherlock but about some things you are woefully ignorant. We _must_ involve ourselves. We must make sure our kind not only survive but thrive. How can you not see that?"

"Did it ever once occur to you that we are screwing with things that we ought not be screwing with?" Sherlock asked.

"That sentence was beneath you on so many levels, and it ended with a preposition," Mycroft said rolling his eyes.

Sherlock plowed on. "Mycroft, we evolved without the help of science. Why are we playing with something that nature seems to have well in hand?"

His brother looked at him with a leveled expression and said. "Because we can."

"That worked out well for you with Moriarty didn't it?" Sherlock snapped.

"James Moriarty was a psychopath long before we got our hands on him. He killed Carl Powers years before the anomalous DNA was even discovered."

Sherlock laughed. "Does that help you sleep at night? He killed once fifteen years before we turned him into a bigger psycho killer, so it couldn't be our fault. You are a joy to share a name with brother, really. Let's get matching outfits and have our photo taken. I'd like to have a memento of this occasion. When you deny any and all responsibility for the mess that was James Moriarty. You are priceless." Mycroft just stared as Sherlock stood up. "I've said all I came to say but I want to make sure you understand me, stay away from Dr. Hooper. Leave us to work this out and I will_ think_ about encouraging her to pop by your little lab for a visit." Sherlock left without looking back.

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_** Please review, thanks for reading.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**This on is a bit smutty... you've been warned. I own nothing.** _

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Molly was finishing the final stitches on Mr. Patel when Sherlock came in the morgue on Monday. She hadn't seen him since the _near miss_ at her flat. He finally had a case that caught his attention. All she'd had heard from him was that he was he working and would see her soon. She was grateful for the space because she had been able to do some much needed thinking.

Frankly she hadn't given that much thought to being a mother before getting engaged. Molly was an only child, so she had no nieces or nephews and had never felt that overwhelming urge to reproduce. Tom had been adamant about having children, they had had several discussions regarding the matter, all of which ended up with Molly explaining that they could revisit it when the time came. However, the thought of having a baby with Sherlock Holmes, the man she'd been in love with for years, did have a certain ring to it. She thought that her feelings may be changing a bit. Perhaps her ambivalence towards reproduction had something to do with the fact that her heart was always elsewhere.

She still had loads of questions, but her main hold off was that Sherlock hadn't said anything about love. He'd made it clear that he was attracted to her and she knew he cared about her, she didn't doubt that. She had no intention, however, of bringing a child into the world with a man who didn't love her. It's one of the reasons she had ended her relationship with Tom, she simply didn't love the man. As much as it would hurt she knew she was strong enough to do it again with Sherlock, but it had to be done before things went any farther. She needed to talk to him before anything escalated to a physical level again. Simple really.

"Almost finished?" he asked.

"Yes, just need to put him away. I can leave the paper work for tomorrow. They get at me if I get too much overtime anyway," she said as she made the last stitch.

"Liver?" Sherlock asked (although it was almost a statement rather than a question.)

"You know it would save a lot of time and money if you'd just pop by every time a new body comes in and glance at it. I wouldn't even have to make a cut. Course I'd be out of a job..."

Sherlock cut her off. "And I wouldn't get to see you do said job, which I did mention was dead sexy."

Molly giggled. "Nice pun," she said as she pushed poor Mr. Patel back into his locker. When she finished up she removed her gloves and set about scrubbing her hands and arms.

"Would you like to go to Angelo's tonight?" He was standing right behind her not quite touching but she could feel the heat coming off his body.

"A nice Italian meal and he never lets me pay. He will be surprised mind you, he was convinced John and I were involved. Poor man will be crushed," he said. unable to resist anymore so he bent down and lightly kissed her long neck.

Molly moved a little closer to the sink to try to escape his advances, but he put his hands on her hips and Molly was trapped. She was drying her hands at this point, and trying very hard to focus on that instead of Sherlock's ridiculously talented mouth. He trailed kisses up and down her neck then traced the outside of her ear with his tongue. Molly shuddered and gripped the sink with both hands. He pinned her between the sink and his hardening length and growled in her ear then pulled back a bit.

One of Sherlock's hands were suddenly toying with the front of Molly's trousers, _when did that happen?_ They were baggy enough that he simply slipped his hand in and started rubbing her through her knickers. He nipped and sucked at her neck as his fingers teased her into submission. When she tossed her head back onto his shoulders moaning his hand ducked into her pants and parted her.

"Oh God!" she gasped.

"Molly, you are so wet. I'm gonna make you come right here, right now. Come for me Molly. I need to hear you call my name. I've waited so long to hear you say it. Please!" He suddenly slammed two fingers into her heat and palmed her breast with his free hand, his prominent erection grinding up against the cleft of Molly's arse. He pumped his fingers and whispered encouragements as she panted and moaned. A few more thrusts with his fingers and a circle of his thumb to her clit and his request was granted.

"Sherlock! Fuck, yes. Ahhh!" Molly called as she rode out her orgasm on his hand. His other arm protectively coming around to keep her from collapsing. He still had one hand down her pants and she was recovering her breathing (and senses) so she reached up and grabbed some paper towels as she started to come back to earth. She wanted to help him clean up after giving her such an amazing orgasm. He pulled his hand out and she went to hand him them to him but he just shook his head and dipped his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean.

She almost came again.

He grabbed her head and kissed her hard. She could taste herself on his lips and she realized no man had ever done that before, kissing her after tasting her. _What have I gotten myself into,_ she thought. _Sherlock Holmes may just kill me with sex!_ Never had anyone ever made her come so quickly, as a matter of fact, few had ever accomplished the task at all. Tom managed their first time together and she spent the rest of their relationship chasing that ever elusive orgasm. _Oh, shit. I was suppose to be avoiding this very thing... how did we end up here?_

Her thoughts were broken by his voice. "Molly, I'm kissing the breath out of you and you're off somewhere else. What's wrong? Didn't you like that?" he asked with clear worry in his eyes. It was also practically seeping out of him. Molly could feel it.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry. I-I just, I promised..." She cleared her throat and straightened up. "I promised myself we wouldn't get into this kind of situation again until we talked. I still... I just need to understand some things Sherlock." He looked confused. "But the-um, that... was lovely." She smiled.

He nodded and moved to the sink to wash his hands. "What don't you understand Molly? Have I been unclear? I thought we were on the same page now. Slow doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun, right?" he said turning to her with a twinkle in his eye, drying his hands and leaning on the sink.

Molly smiled, took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. "I'm still uncertain as to whether or not I want to have children... it's just, well I'm not sure." She finished looking at the floor._ Why can't I look this man in the eyes?_ She shook her head at her sudden shyness.

"We don't have to make any decisions about children right now. We're both young. And frankly if we decide not to have kids the government can sod off for all I care." Molly looked up. "However can you imagine what our child would look like? How gifted they'd be? And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about all the fun we'd have making said child," he said as he encircled her in his arms once again.

She was suddenly once again overwhelmed and overstimulated, later that's what she would blame for her next sentence. "Sherlock?" she said her head resting on his chest. "Do you love me?" As soon as the words exited her mouth she wished for nothing more than to take them back.

"Oh, that's what this is about... Love." Molly tried to pull away but Sherlock held her tight, almost too tight. "Margret May Hooper, yes. I love you. Sorry, I thought it was implied. I always miss something." He kissed the top of her head and pulled her back a bit.

She had tears in her eyes and he felt her trembling, "Hey, I thought that was pretty good for a 'fucking machine' as John once called me."

"I'm not crying because I'm sad you big oaf..."

"Is it because I used you're middle name? I think it's rather appealing, I think I'll start calling you Molly May. Isn't there a song called Molly May?" he asked scrunching up his face and looking absolutely adorable.

"That's Maggie May and I can't even believe you know that much," she said as she pushed him back to disentangle herself. She found a tissue and cleaned her face.

"I'm sure it was for a case, anyway are we going to dinner or not? I'm starving," he said grinning.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful and Angelo was indeed surprised to find Sherlock on a date with a woman. They enjoyed delicious food and possibly too much wine which surprised Molly since she had rarely seen Sherlock imbibe.

"I can't believe you called your Mummy!" Molly laughed as she held her stomach. "What grown man calls their mother to tell on their brother?" She continued to laugh.

Sherlock laughed through her insult completely undaunted. "I do obviously, he was hiding behind his goons. I clearly only had one course of action. Mummy is one of his only weaknesses."

"Really, I didn't know The British Government had any weaknesses. What else?" she asked.

"Fairy cakes and dashing blond men," Sherlock said without thinking for a second.

Molly gasped.

"This is why I don't drink," he said picking up his water glass.

Molly wondered if she should pursue the subject but the wine made her bold. "So the in vitro..." Sherlock just nodded his head once. "Poor Anthea."

"Well, you know my brother... people tend to do what he says. It's why he has such a hard time with my obstinance. Also why I enjoy being obstinate." Sherlock ran his hands through his hair. "I literally just told him I didn't care enough about his personal life to inform you of this situation." He was looking down at his uneaten food.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I shouldn't have..."

He laughed. "You did nothing wrong Molly. I slipped. I didn't mean it though. I do care actually. I wish he'd just let this go and find some nice bloke and be happy. But he's determined to see this through. Let's not let my brother, of all people, ruin our evening," he said smiling.

"I won't say anything. I promise."

"I know that Molly, I wouldn't have lied to begin with but it truly is his business, not mine. Don't think another thing about it. And don't worry about Anthea, she wanted this child, I'm sure she's happy to be carrying it."

"Okay. You ready to go? Can't keep me out too late on a school night." She smirked.

They both spoke to Angelo and Sherlock tried to pay but of course the man refused, wishing them a lovely evening and for Sherlock to treat his new lady friend better than he did John. Sherlock was about to hold his hand up for a cab when Molly grabbed his arm.

"Can we walk for a while? I ate too much, might be nice to walk it off a bit."

"Of course," he said.

After a couple of blocks Sherlock reached down and took Molly's hand. Her heart skipped a beat, which was odd, after the incident in the morgue she would have thought something as innocent as hand-holding wouldn't garner such a strong reaction. She was wrong. Then she realized she was indeed holding the same hand that had killed countless operatives in Moriarty's network as well as Charles Magnussen. The same hand that held his pocket magnifier and adjusted his favorite microscope. The same hand that, incidentally, just hours ago had brought her off so beautifully. Molly giggled at the juxtaposition of it all.

"What?" Sherlock's baritone shook her out of her thoughts. "Is it the hand-holding, we don't...?"

"Oh um, no that's fine actually." She cut in holding up their joined hands. "It's nice. Just a bit surreal," she said as they started walking once again.

"Yeah," he said and they continued in comfortable silence for several more blocks. By this point they were closer to Baker Street than Molly's flat. "Do you want to come up?" Sherlock asked.

Molly could feel his anticipation and nervousness and as much as she wanted to except his invitation her logical side started playing tricks with her emotional side. "I have to work in the morning Sherlock, and there's Toby. Last time I stayed here he pissed on nearly everything in my flat."

Sherlock smiled sadly then kissed her deeply. "Next time Molly May, we make plans." He raised his hand calling a cab, then told the driver her address and handed him some money. He kissed her one more time before helping her into the back and shutting the door.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading, review please.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_I own nothing, enjoy._**

* * *

Sherlock felt like giving Molly space was somehow working to his advantage. Also he needed to talk to his blogger, so the next morning he sent Molly a text saying he'd call her after work and see how she was feeling about getting together. He had to smugly pat himself on the back,_ I seem to be navigating this relationship business pretty well for someone who avoided it his whole life._

He arrived at the Watson's at half past ten, the prearranged time. Mary was tending to the sprog in the sitting room while John saw Sherlock in.

"There's Uncle Sherlock, you remember him Lizzy? Oh, you don't? Awe, she doesn't remember you then. Maybe that's because you haven't been round in almost three months," Mary said as she cuddled her daughter.

"An over-exaggeration of course. I've seen my Goddaughter exactly six times in the last ten weeks. Now give her to me so we can do some bonding," he said with outstretched arms.

Mary rolled her eyes and handed Lizzy over. "Sherlock did you just come over for 'Lizzy Time' or is there something going on?" John asked, as much as Sherlock teased, John Watson was very observant especially of his best friend.

"Yes John, I have something I need to discuss with you and your wife."

Sensing the severity of his situation Mary excused herself to make some tea then returned to find that John had taken Lizzy to the nursery to try to get her down for a nap.

"That was a short visit," Mary said.

"I think yours and John's undivided attention will be beneficial for us all," he replied.

Mary studied the detective for a moment. "Is this one of those things that will have me putting my husband back together for the next six months to a year?"

"No, not at all. Just complicated. No one's in any danger, I assure you," he said with a smile.

"Not the creepy smile Sherlock. It's off-putting."

"Molly likes my smile," he said adding some cheek. Sherlock smiled into his tea, it didn't go unnoticed my Mrs. Watson.

"Molly Hooper is a saint and I, as you well know, am not. So what about Molly? Why are you suddenly attached to her hip?"

Sherlock's smile didn't falter. "That will all become clear very soon Mary."

They chatted until John returned, taking a bit longer than normally since it was earlier than Lizzy's regular nap time. Only Sherlock Holmes would think he can dictate a six month old's sleeping schedule.

"Okay, what the hell have you done?" John said sitting down and taking a drink of his tepid tea then pulling a face. "That's horrible."

"Sorry," Mary said.

"It's his fault," John replied jerking his head toward Sherlock.

"Are you two quite finished? What do you know about evolution?"

The Watsons gaped at Sherlock. John looked at his wife then back to his friend and finally spoke. "Well, I know the basic stuff I guess, why?"

The next twenty-five minutes were spent explaining the Advantis program. There was of course loads of questions and a bit of disbelief but by then end Sherlock had two close friends sitting in awe of this new information and what it could mean for the human race.

"Are you saying you have more chromosomes than me?" John asked.

"No, I have and extra chromosomal branch. Unless you turn out to be an Advantis as well," Sherlock explained. "You'll need to be tested to be sure, but I don't have any indication that you are part of the group."

"Thanks mate, I know you've always thought I was slower than you but clearly you think myself and my wife aren't as..." John said sounding a bit affronted.

"No John, you didn't let me finish," Sherlock interrupted rolling his eyes then went on to explain the pheromone component. "It seems to work more as a tool for finding a romantic partner, for mating and procreation. But with my heightened sense of smell I do believe I would have noticed something in the two of you. Also statistically speaking it would be remarkable if either the two of you were Advantis as well. Still, best to have you both tested to be sure."

"Romantic partner? You mean you can sniff out a girlfriend? Handy," John said laughing with Mary, then he quickly turned back to Sherlock. "Wait...Molly?"

"I knew you'd get there eventually. Yes, she's my," he huffed and rolled his eyes. "True One, ridiculous name for... well anything. But yes, Molly is an Advantis and we are involved."

"Is that what the last eight weeks have been about?" John asked.

"Research."

"Why would you need to research Molly Hooper, you've known her for six years," John continued his query.

"Six years, eight months, twenty..." Sherlock started.

"Yes, yes. So what were you researching exactly?" John asked clearly having had enough of Sherlock's exactitude.

"I am well versed in many things, however romantic relationships are not one of them. Even though I never doubted my," he paused for just a second, clearly still not comfortable with the next word quite yet. "_Feelings_ for Molly. I was willing to admit in this instance I seemed to be out of my depth. You John, have had the luxury of many relationships. A dozen women were paraded through our flat before you found your... well Mary's your True One, in a matter of speaking."

John cut his eyes to his wife. "No need to bring up old shit, mate," he said with a nervous laugh.

"I lack the experience of dating that you have John, so I decided to spend as much time as I possibility could with Molly. Get to know everything I could about her."

"Did the great detective find out anything new?" Mary asked.

Sherlock got a far off look in his eyes for a split second. "Yes, yes I did."

John sensed that the conversation could get uncomfortable for his best friend so he changed the subject. "Did you say True One? What, J.K. Rowling come up with that name?" John asked with a chuckle.

Sherlock looked up and thought for a moment, "She may have, she's on the board. Any way, now you know what's going on and why I've been... distracted as of late. And you also know that Molly and are seeing each other. Any other questions?"

After a moment Mary spoke up. "I have one. Why aren't you upset?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'll just say it even if John won't. You like being one of a kind. You like being the only one that can do the things you can do. Why aren't you upset to find out that there are others like you?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "First of all Mrs. Watson." He sounded very harsh at first but softened quickly. "Yes, you're right, I do like being the only one that can deduce and pick apart a crime scene. But this doesn't change that. I'm still the worlds only consulting detective. Secondly, I've been through weeks of testing and it seems even within the group I'm among the top 5% in intelligence levels. And lastly..." He took a breath and looked at his hands. "for a long time I've felt as if there was something wrong with me. I was always so different than everyone around me. Very few ever excepted me for who I was, save your husband and Molly Hooper. Now I understand why I'm different Mary. I don't feel quite so alienated. Don't get me wrong, even within the group, most of the people I've met are unquestionable morons and no one I would consider friends. But at least I can say there is a reason I felt like an outsider most of my life." He smiled. "Does that answer your question?"

Mary was in tears. "Yes!" She jumped up from her seat to throw her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even asked that question," she said softly.

He held her as he looked at John with wide eyes, having just been tackled by his best friend's wife, his intention was never to upset her. "It's okay Mary. I know why you asked, and I said I'd answer all your questions."

"Wow, you are different, you know that?" she said sitting back on the sofa.

"I do feel a bit more centered than I ever have before. Whether it's Molly or acceptance I'm not sure. Perhaps both. Now, I'll leave you to it. Just pop by Barts and let Molly draw some blood this week for me okay? And it goes without saying that this can't be shared, this information stays between us."

* * *

And with that he took his leave, leaving a pair of stunned Watsons in his wake.

Sherlock's good mood was about to be ruined. As he made his way back to Baker Street he received an incoming text from a blocked number.

**Something requires your attention within the group, investigate.**

Within. So within what? The government? The privately funded labs? Within could mean anything. The text didn't contain enough information.

Fortunately the Holmes brothers had a contingency for just about anything. Sherlock sent Mycroft a text.

**Baker Street today. Mummy's birthday is coming up. Must discuss very soon.-SH**

Of course her birthday was months away and Mycroft would know that the text was a call to arms. Sherlock also sent Molly a text. If something was going on he needed her near.

**I know I said I'd call but just come to Baker Street after work.-SH**

And then another.

**Please.-SH**

Five minutes later he got his response.

**Okay, I asked Mrs. Greenhaugh to check on Toby just in case. I can stay late if you like.-Mxx**

Sherlock smiled._ I love subtext._

**Lovely.-SH**

Twenty-five minutes later his brother and that damn brolly arrived along with two agents (they were left at the front door.)

"Implementing the Mummy Protocol Sherlock. This must be important," Mycroft said as he crossed the room to his brother. Sherlock handed over his phone.

"I received this text today on my way back from the Watsons."

As he read the words Mycroft's eyes grew large then he squinted. "Okay."

Sherlock carefully studied the elder Holmes. He was clearly upset by the words he read but was trying in vain to hide it. _Trying to hide it from me? He knows he can't. Curious..._

"Mycroft? What do you make of this?"

"I have no more to go on than do you little brother. But I assure you I will bring it to the attention of the proper department. Thank you for sharing it with me and for your discretion." Mycroft turned to leave.

"Do you really think you're getting out of here that easy?" Sherlock called out at Mycroft who was near the door. "The amount of people you've been testing you can't possibly think you could keep this a secret forever. What if there's a leak?"

"I've explained this Sherlock, 80% of the participants haven't been given much or any information. They simply think they are being tested at random. Very few have been given access to the amount of data that you and I have." Mycroft turned to leave once again.

"Something's going on Mycroft."

He turned slowly. "Sherlock, I have seen the text. I know of no other communication. If you receive any further correspondence please contact me, good day."

Sherlock watched the British government leave his flat. _My brother is hiding something. Let's hope he hasn't damned us all once again,_ he thought.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading._**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Okay, it's getting really smutty now... I own nothing._**

* * *

Molly approached 221B with excitement and nerves in the pit of her stomach. She knew exactly what she had implied with her reply to Sherlock. That's why she did it. She didn't want to give herself a chance to back out again. She had all the information she needed; Sherlock loved her and wanted her. Nothing holding her back now except herself and frankly she was done waiting... she wanted him too. So she had taken extra time grooming... well things. She had packed an overnight bag and had set up care for Toby.

She rang the doorbell and Sherlock was down the stairs within a minute.

"Where's Mrs. Hudson? You always make her answer the door," she asked a bit shocked at seeing the out of breath detective.

He took her by the wrist and pulled her into the building then pinned her up against the wall next to the door. "She's out, who knows where she goes when she leaves? I'm not her keeper," he said with a grin as he stroked her hair (which was not up in her customary ponytail.)

"You sent her away didn't you?"

"I might have. We have Baker Street to ourselves Molly Hooper." He looked down at her left hand. "And you seem to have an overnight bag. I'm not the only presumptuous one here." He closed in on her and kissed her jaw curling his fingers into her hair. "You wore your hair down for me didn't you?" He kissed her neck until he reached the place that had made her moan and pant the day before in the lab.

"Maybe I... took it down because...ahh, my head hurt." She tried to argue but it was a losing battle.

His low chuckle vibrated through her entire body. "Lying to Sherlock Holmes. You are a brave girl Molly May." He finally wrapped his lips around hers nearly making her knees buckle. Their kiss was frantic and so full of much passion, Molly was afraid their first time might just be in the entry way of 221B Baker Street. Just then Sherlock pulled back. "Shall we?" he asked taking her bag in one hand and grabbing Molly's wrist in the other.

"Sure." Was all Molly could say as she followed him up the stairs.

When they made into the flat Sherlock disappeared down the hall with her bag and Molly kicked her shoes off and hung up her jacket. Then took a deep and much needed breath.

Sherlock returned just as Molly was getting ready to go look for him. "Wine?" he asked.

Molly looked at him, his hair tousled, eyes dilated and lips reddened from their hallway snog. She shook her head 'no.' She was still walking towards him. Something in Molly's head flipped at that very moment. A switch was thrown. She'd never been overly aggressive in bed, but she suddenly found herself attached to Sherlock, arms around his neck him holding her up by her bottom, ankles crossed behind his back. She didn't even know how she'd gotten up so high, _did I jump? Fuck who cares!?_

Sherlock walked down the hall carrying her never letting their lips part. When they got to his room he turned and pushed her up against the door moving his lips to her neck licking and sucking as he frantically unbuttoned her shirt. "God, Molly do you know how long I've wanted to see you naked?" He continued his work until he finally got the damn thing opened, then he pulled back just enough for her to drop it off her shoulders. He started to reach behind her for her bra claps.

"Eyes front solider." He looked down and saw the front closer on the bra. She popped the clasp and freed her breasts to him.

"See, you _are_ a fucking genius." He stared at her breasts like he was deducing them.

Molly giggled. "I didn't invent it, I just wore it. And, by the way, I guarantee I've been waiting longer than you."

"We can argue that later," he said as carried her to the bed and dropped her almost roughly then climbed on top of her while he traced her belly gently with his fingers. He bent down and slid this teeth over her clavicle and palming one breast. "I'm going to undo you tonight Molly Hooper. I've spent the last eight weeks working out just what you'd want me to do to you," he whispered in her ear, causing her to whimper. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to be so close to you and not simply throw you against the wall and take you?" He bit hard into the side of her throat over her carotid artery. This made her curse and dig her fingers, which had been lazily running up and down his back, into his scalp.

Sherlock sat back on his knees giving her a moment to recover and removed his shirt, suddenly needing to skin to skin contact. "Was that too intense?" Molly couldn't speak she just shook her head. "Good, and no scarves I want everyone to see what I've done to you. To know that you're mine." He returned to her as soon as the shirt was gone chuckling against her temple as he enjoyed holding her feeling where their bare chests touched.

Molly laughed with him_. Of course Sherlock would be possessive enough to want to mark me_, she thought as he spoke and she realized the bite wasn't a frenzy of passion but very intentional. _Berk_. Oh but what a lovely berk he was. He was gently trailing kisses down her body stopping to nip and suck her painfully taught nipples._ How does he know exactly what I like?_ Molly suddenly thought back to the morgue,_ if he kills me with sex at least I die happy._ She was so lost in the ecstasy of his amazing mouth and tongue she hadn't noticed he'd managed to get her trousers unbuttoned and unzipped until he was pulling them off.

Sherlock was nibbling and sucking on her hip bone and across her belly working Molly into a right mess, when he finally started pulling her knickers down.

"Ah, a little extra grooming for me Molly?" he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

"How did you know?" she asked sitting up on her elbows.

He rolled his eyes. "I've studied you're grooming products over the last several weeks and the shape of your razor hardly lends to this level of attention. Also I had my hand down you pants yesterday Molly, it's different today."

Molly huffed. "Fine, you gonna deduce it or do you have plans for contact any time soon," she teased.

"You'll pay for that young lady," he said as he drew her knees up and pushed them out. "I've waited too long for this delicacy and I will be taking my time with my meal."

And he did...

He kiss, licked, sucked and bit every piece of flesh except that which Molly most desired. He took his time as Molly completely fell apart around him begging for contact.

"Please Sherlock, please!"

"Yes Molly? What is it that you want?" he asked breaking contact with her skin.

"Oh fuck, please lick my pussy! Please please," she couldn't care less how desperate she sounded. He'd been teasing her far too long to have any pride left.

"But love, I just got you off yesterday in the morgue. I had to come home unsatisfied, thinking about all those amazing noises you made and about how you tasted. Don't you think it's only fair that I go first? Isn't it my turn?"

Molly's heart stopped. Was he really going to make her wait after all this teasing? She whimpered. Then she had a brilliant idea. "Take off your trousers and pants and give me your cock, but please don't stop what you're doing," she said, very proud that she was able to articulate herself.

Sherlock's mind went blank for a second. He was only teasing her. He hadn't meant it, he had no intention of holding off Molly's pleasure any longer. However what she was proposing certainly had it's merits. Sherlock sat back and removed the offending clothing as quickly as he could. Then positioned himself above Molly. As soon as he was near her she wrapped her skillful hand around his leaking cock. He realized it was going to take all of his concentration to pull this off. But he would, and it would be amazing. That's when Molly's sweet lips touched the head of his dick and he dove into her like a man dying of thirst.

Molly was so lost in finally getting her mouth around Sherlock Holmes that by the time his lips and tongue made contact with her cunt she had almost forgot why they were in this position. She hummed and cried around his cock taking more and more as he worked her hard and fast.

Her orgasm was so quick she couldn't believe it was happening, but she didn't let up on her job for a second. She swallowed down more and more of him holding on to his hips to take as much as she could while he drove two fingers into to extend her pleasure as long as possible. Suddenly his penis was gone and she was cold, though she was only somewhat aware of it since she was coming down from her own high. She heard him opening a foil wrapper and he was on her again.

"Better now love?" he whispered just before he kissed her intensely.

Molly nodded.

"Ready for me?" he asked and she could feel his cock brushing up against her overstimulated clit.

"Please Sherlock, yes. I'm ready." And she reached up to hold onto his shoulders.

He pushed in slowly at first but Molly locked her ankles around his back meeting his hips thrust for thrust and pushing him past the point of gentle lovemaking.

"Oh, fuck Molly. I've been waiting for this exact moment my whole life. You're perfect. God you're so tight." He kissed her again then leaned back pulling her arse completely off the bed and supporting her by holding her hips so hard there would surely be bruises for days. He set a punishing pace and Molly was helpless but to grip the sheets and take everything he was giving.

Her second orgasm was even more intense than the first and she called out to him and every deity she'd ever heard of and thanked him for his 'beautiful cock.'

When Molly's walls collapsed onto him Sherlock felt his tenuous control start to slip. When she called out and started praising his member he was done for. He stilled his thrusts and whispered her name as he spilled into her before gently releasing her hips and rolling off.

"Magnificent." Was all Sherlock said before grabbing Molly and bringing her into his chest.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading._**


	9. Chapter 9

_**No beta, I own nothing.**_

* * *

For the first time in her seven years of employment at St. Bartholomews Hospital Molly Hooper called into work sick. When she phoned Mike at 7:30 this morning he pointed this out, then told her to feel better and take as much time as she needed. She had taken a week off after Sherlock's 'death' and there was the odd vacation day here and there but he was right..._ How often to I get sick?_ She wondered for about a split second until Sherlock came back to bed and then she had more important things to ponder.

That was two hours ago, now she was currently sitting on his lap in his favorite chair while he sucked her nipples as though his life depended on it.

She gripped his hair as she rode him chasing her end. He glided his hand between them to circle her clit and she increased her speed as if he'd pushed some magical button. Molly tossed her head back cursing and calling out his name as he felt her once again start to close down on him. This time, perhaps because of the new position, it brought on his climax even quicker as he thrust up into Molly two more times before his release and she dug her nails into the flesh of his back.

"Fuck Sherlock! It's never been like this before!" Molly said as he kissed her in the afterglow.

"I know, same here," he said breathlessly. "Never. Amazing isn't it?" He kept kissing her neck and chest.

Molly giggled at his suddenly inability to articulate himself. "Yes, that's one word for it. But we need a break, I'm starving. Also a bit of clean-up wouldn't go amiss." Molly found she loved reading him after they had sex. She couldn't really concentrate enough during to get much from him, but after... after he was so content and he radiated pure unadulterated happiness.

"Mmmhmm, I like that we smell like each other," he said burying his head in Molly's chest making her giggle again.

She halfheartedly batted at him. "We have to eat, what happened to you feeding me up? Not important now that you found my breasts?"

"I can only think of one thing that's more important than your breasts Molly Hooper," he said, sending her into a fit of laughter as she fruitlessly tried to extract herself off of his lap. "I didn't say you could get up!" She goosed him causing him to retreat, and took the opportunity to jump back and run (naked of course) into the bedroom.

Just then the doorbell rang. Molly stuck her head out of the door just long enough to say, "Better get the door!" Then slammed it shut and retreated back into the bedroom.

"You have to come out eventually if you want food, and I will repay your treachery, Molly May!" Sherlock called as tossed the condom in the bin and donned his dressing gown. When he got to the front door he still had a stupid smile on his face. He opened it to see Billy Wiggins in all his homeless glory.

"Hey Boss!"

"Billy, I'm a bit indisposed at the moment. Can this wait?" Sherlock asked.

"I can see that. Jus delivering a message Shezza."

"Don't call me that Billy, especially in front of Molly. What's the message?"

"Oi! How's things wit da missus?" Billy asked craning his neck looking into the building.

"She's lovely, thank you for you assistance with the surveillance. Now what's the message?"

"Right, dis bloke came up to me today an said I had to tell you to pay attention. Dat tings ain't what they seem," Billy said trying to look up the stairs and get a peek at the missus.

"Is that all he said?"

"Yep."

"What did he look like?"

Wiggins took out his phone and pulled up his photos. "Dis." Showing Sherlock a photo of a man in his late thirties, light hair, dark eyes. The man clearly didn't know Billy had taken the photo, as he was turning away. Homeless people weren't suppose to have mobile phones of course they aren't suppose to be employed either. The man should have known better.

"Perfect. Send that to me Billy. And here." He crushed some money into Wiggins's hand.

"You keep cash in you housecoat?"

"What have I taught you about planning for every contingency? Why didn't you just send this to me, why come here?"

"I dunno... I..."

"You wanted to see Molly. You aren't allowed to have a crush on my... my Molly. Stop Billy," he said, then he shut the door.

When he got back into the flat Sherlock found Molly wearing one of his dress shirts and huffing in frustration in the kitchen. "You have nothing in. What are we going to eat?"

"I was going to feed you then you put on that shirt, now I plan on taking you against the kitchen counter until you beg me to stop," he said picking her up and setting her down on the only cleared spot.

Molly's legs automatically wrapped around his back as he attacked her neck while rucking his shirt up enough to see that she had somehow forgotten her knickers. "This is exactly what you wanted you little vixen. You didn't even put your pants back on."

She laughed. "No, I was in a hurry to find something to eat before you got back, really. Please I'm starving," she said and Sherlock looked at her big brown eyes and finally took pity on her.

"Okay, fine I'll order something. What do you want?" he askeed stepping away grabbing his phone.

"I don't care, just lot's of it!"

Sherlock was punching away on his mobile when he heard Molly clearing her throat. "What?"

"Sherlock, you stranded me up here. My... I'm too short to just hop down!"

He smiled at her predicament as he approached the petite pathologist. "You are so tiny, it's hilarious."

"Don't laugh at me. I'm not tiny, I'm average sized, thank you very much."

"I'm sorry love, but you are not average. You are tiny. Why do you think I've been trying so hard to get you to eat more?" _Oh no!_

"Have you been trying to fatten me up? Is Sherlock Holmes a chubby chaser?" Molly asked in a tone that sounded half offended and half amused.

"A chubby what? NO!" He huffed and ruffled his hair. "I had already accessed what kind of intercourse you would prefer, but your diminutive build is so damn delicate I was afraid of... damage. I thought a little bit of padding wouldn't hurt!"

Molly stared wide-eyed at her new lover realizing he had indeed been fattening her up... she was only kidding. "You are insane! You spent the last eight weeks, figuring out my sexual preferences and adding a little meat so you could have rougher sex with me?" She shook her head. "Why am I caught between repulsed and turned on?"

Sherlock put his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "Because you love me and you realize everything I did, I did because I wanted to make our experience better and more satisfying." He kissed her jaw and neck then leaned back to see which way she had emotion she had landed on.

"Fine. I guess it's cute in a creepy sort of way, kind of like you. Not any creepier than the vampiric blood stealing trick. We need to have a conversation about boundaries Sherlock, okay?" He nodded his head. "Now, please let me down."

He gently picked her up and put her on the floor. "Oh, by the way. Billy Wiggins has a huge crush on you. You've been warned."

"Who?"

"Wiggins, Billy. From my homeless network," he said pulling up the photo Billy had sent him and looking at it again.

"Have I even met him?"

"Yes, the day you slapped me... three times I should add."

Molly thought for a moment, Sherlock was still distracted by the image on his phone. "Sherlock that was over a year ago, how would he even remember me?"

"..."_ Damnit_, he thought. _This may be a bit not good._

"Sherlock?" she asked with a warning tone.

"When I was on a case and couldn't be with you, Billy would keep an eye on you for me and report back to make sure I knew that you were safe and sound. That's it I swear!" He tried to give her an innocent smile but it came off awkward and _very_ guilty.

"You mean make sure I wasn't on a date! Arg! Boundaries Sherlock!" She turned and went into the bedroom slamming the door in her wake.

Sherlock took a deep breath before approaching the bedroom door, very grateful that the lock on the door had been broken for years. He walked in to find Molly frantically looking for her clothes.

"Where are my knickers?" she yelled.

"After all the things I've done why is Wiggins the worst?" Sherlock asked.

"He's a homeless drug addict, Sherlock! And you had him following me!"

Sherlock huffed. "As if I'd ask a dangerous person to follow the woman I love. Also he's clean now and I helped him find a place to live... most of the time at least. Please calm down Molly."

She flopped down on the bed. "In the last week I found out that I'm part of a new evolutionary advancement and evidently empathic. I've been followed by your brother's agents and your homeless friend (who apparently has a crush on me.) You drew my blood without my consent and also that you've been fattening me up like a Christmas turkey. Did I miss anything?" she asked while furiously putting on her socks.

He dropped to his knees in front of her. "Only the most important part, but it's understandable since you're in such a state."

She looked up with teary eyes. "What?"

"I love you Molly, you forgot that you found out that I'm in love with you." Then he kissed her on the nose.

She rolled her eyes. "Damnit. I'm suppose to be pissed at you Sherlock Holmes!"

"We just survived our first fight. I don't know much about relationships but I distinctly remember John mentioning something about make-up sex," he said as he started kissing her neck, just then the doorbell rang again.

"Oh, thank God... Food!" Molly said pushing Sherlock back on his bum. "Get up. I'm not decent."

Sherlock went and got to get their food, pretty happy that they had made it through their first fight.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**No beta, I own nothing. Enjoy...**_

* * *

Sherlock walked through the doors of New Scotland Yard on a bit of a mission. He had a face, and needed to find a name. His brother was out of the question, since he wasn't entirely sure he would help him or or hinder him.

Molly was at work this morning, he would have gotten started yesterday but there was the matter of make up sex to be taken care of. If he gave it too much thought he could be disturbed at how little he care about the rest of the world at large right now... however he didn't. He had let his mind wonder this morning as he watched Molly sleep just before her alarm went off. There were cases that needed his attentions, he was sure of it. Not to mention he really should have immediately started looking for the man that spoke to Wiggins, but Molly's lovely body really needed studied and he couldn't be bothered until she was sent off to work.

These changes should be frightening... but they weren't in the least. He had given up years of his life fixing problems for other people (not that he ever considered himself benevolent, he was well aware he'd done it for selfish reasons.) This time, he decided, was his and Molly's time. He'd get to the rest of it when he felt like it. Being an Advantis somehow had made him more human, ironic.

"Lestrade, I need use of you facial recognition software," Sherlock said as soon as he entered Greg's office.

"And good morning to you Sherlock," Greg replied leaning back putting his hands behind his head.

Sherlock proffered a fake smile. "Ah, pleasantries. Morning Detective Inspector. The software please."

"First of all, why? Secondly you know we have third-rate software at best, if you need to find someone why not ask your brother? And lastly... no," Greg said as he took a drink of his coffee.

"No!? After everything I've done for you? You won't give me access to you mediocre software?"

"That's what I'm talking about, why don't you ask your brother? Ours is two years old and again why?"

"I'm looking for someone and I only have an image of their face, not their name... hence the necessity for the facial recognition, Gary. You are even slower than usual today. And as for my brother... I'd rather not bother him with something so trivial. He's been in a mood, his diet's not going well."

Greg eyed the detective suspiciously. "Fine, but if this is so trivial why are you even bothering at all?" he asked as he got up and exited the office.

"Call it curiosity." Sherlock said following the older man.

After two hours and three cups of bad coffee Sherlock was jittery and empty handed. Nothing had turned up with the search. He was nowhere closer to finding out who was trying to tip him off about the Advantis program, and he still had no idea what he was suppose to be looking for. He knew it was only a matter of time before he received a call from his brother inquiring as to why he was using NSY's software and who he was looking for. So he was more than ready when his phone rang.

"Mycroft," Sherlock answered. "I haven't had a chance to persuade Molly to come in for testing yet, but I assure you I will very soon."

"Been busy doing other things I hope."

_When did my brother become so... odious? Yes, that describes Mycroft's recent behavior._ He thought as he schooled his response. "Oh how I miss your 'caring is not an advantage speech.' Can't we go back to that one?"

"That conversation was specifically in reference to that retched Adler woman. Just trying to steer you in the proper direction."

"You made a blanket statement, anyone else would have taken it as such."

"Good thing you're not anyone else. On to the reason for my call, why are you using the Yard's computer's to search for one Mr. Randy Dawde?"

Sherlock looked at his watch. _Oh, it's tea time. Mycroft must be completely distracted by tarts and scones,_ Sherlock thought. "It's for a case, obviously."

"Really, I thought perhaps you were looking for a new blogger."

_A blogger? Interesting. Why would a blogger come to me instead of going public?_ "Was that all dear brother?" Sherlock asked.

"Good luck with your case Sherlock, let me know when Molly is ready for her testing," Mycroft said before ringing off."

When Sherlock got home he searched for Randy Dawde, Randal Dawde and various spellings of his last name. He found nothing matching that name to the photo he had on his phone. There was no blog belonging to anyone by that name or description. He once again felt like his brother was playing some kind of game and he didn't like it one bit. Either Randy Dawde never existed or he had been erased, neither prospect offered Sherlock any comfort.

He was just getting ready to go back to the Yard and ask for Lestrade's help once again when his phone pinged.

**I've dealt with the Randy Dawde situation, no need to trouble yourself.-MH**

_What?_

**What do you mean dealt with it, who was he and what was he doing?-SH**

**He was a blogger intent on exposing the program and he is no longer your concern. Nothing for you to worry about brother dear.-MH**

**Doesn't explain why he was contacting me.-SH**

**No doubt to gain exclusive access to an Advantis. To anyone aware of the program and paying attention you would be fairly obvious, wouldn't you say? Suffices to say, it's over now.-MH**

**Why are you texting me?-SH**

**Dentist.-MH**

Sherlock decided he needed to apprise Molly of the situation with the blogger. He'd not been deliberately keeping it from her, he'd just been a bit... distracted. He picked Molly up from Bart's and brought her up to speed after his short text conversation with his brother. It was decided that the testing should be scheduled. Taking Molly into the lab would appease Mycroft and give Sherlock a chance to snoop around a bit, but she would not be leaving his sight once they were within the confines of his brother's mad science facility.

* * *

Two days later they were on their way to the London's home base of operations for the Advantis program.

"How are we going to find anything out if you're glued to my side the entire time?" Molly protested and not for the first time. "I can take care of myself you know."

"Molly, I'm not leaving you alone with these people," Sherlock said sitting next to her in the back of the cab, a protective arm circling her waist. To the naked eye the building looked like any other government building and Sherlock had refused his brother's offer of a town car.

"One of these people happens to be your brother. Do you have no trust in him at all?"

"Right now I have no idea who to trust Molly. This situation has left me with an all too familiar feeling. The same one I got when I found out about..." He paused and looked at the cabby. "James. When I realized that my brother..." Sherlock stopped at looked out the window.

Molly could sense such strong emotions coming from Sherlock it was almost overwhelming. _Anxiety, betrayal, fear, pity_... who did he pity? Surely not Moriarty. She was determined to let Sherlock explain the Moriarty situation in his own time, but she could feel it weighing on him.

"Sherlock you need to talk about this. Maybe not today but soon. Please," she said.

"Of course, you're right. Soon. Let's just get through today and see what we can find out. Hopefully I can do this without murdering my brother."

When they arrived at the secret underground laboratory they were asked to wait in a conference room for Mycroft._ Could this be anymore cliché,_ Molly thought. But that's how things were with Mycroft Holmes, right down to his practiced sneer and sinister umbrella (yes, apparently a brolly can be sinister.) He was like a painfully obvious villain left over from a Bond film. She steeled herself for his approach.

"Ah, the happy couple," he said as he waved off his two of his minions, leaving the three of them alone for the moment.

Sherlock looked at his brother. "How was your dentist appointment?"

Mycroft looked confused for a split second. "Ah, yes. That was a very busy day. I almost forgot... it went well," he said absently rubbing his jaw.

Sherlock and Molly shared curious glances. "There was a promise of an apology," Sherlock said without even looking at his brother.

"I promised nothing of the sort." Mycroft snapped back.

"No, but mummy did."

An eye roll and huff that would put any fifteen year old to shame later... "I'm terribly sorry Miss Hooper. My manors the other day were appalling. Although it wasn't my intention to offend, simply to welcome you into our humble..."

"That's enough." Sherlock cut him off. "I haven't eaten today but still I may be sick. And if you don't find it within yourself to remember her proper title I will tell everyone here about your favorite pass-time as a child." Sherlock ended with a raised eyebrow. Molly did her best to hold in her giggle. Mycroft sneered even more before excusing himself.

First they were taken to a medical lab. Several doctors came in and were introduced (all of their names sounded fake to Molly) and she sensed that they were very nervous. Quite possibly because of the way Sherlock was glaring at them. She was given an extensive physical exam. Nothing too out of the ordinary, just very thorough. When a woman came in to draw her blood Sherlock stood up.

"You will only be_ taking_ blood. I'm watching you very carefully," he said and Molly felt the woman's anxiety spike.

"Thanks love. Make the person getting ready to poke me with a needle more unsteady." She turned to the nurse. "He's not nearly as scary as he seems. Sleeps with a stuffed unicorn," Molly said trying to put the poor woman at ease. It seemed to help if only a bit and eventually she found Molly's vein (though painfully.) By the end Molly wasn't sure she had any blood left, they had taken seven vials.

When the vampire left, Sherlock took Molly's face in his hands. "You okay?"

"Yes, why were you so upset about the nurse?"

"Wanted to make sure they didn't try to inject you with anything," he whispered right next to her ear, unintentionally making Molly shiver. That made him smile.

"Is that something I should be worried about?" she asked, slightly breathy.

"Perhaps," he said then he kissed her cheek to cover their covert conversation, and well because he wanted to. Molly giggled and pushed Sherlock off playfully, just then Mycroft walked in.

"Aren't you two adorable."

"What's next Mykey?" Sherlock asked making his brother take a deep breath.

"The next exam is a bit more personal, you my not want to be present. It's to do with girl parts and such. We have to make sure Molly is nice and fertile after all, if not what's the point of all your useless and unwanted advances."

Well that did it.

Sherlock's fist connected with Mycroft's jaw well before any of his brother's agents could reached either of them. As a matter of fact Molly was the first one to make it to the brawling brothers. She was trying in vain to pry Sherlock's hands away from Mycroft's throat when the agents finally reached the fracas. They of course restrained Sherlock, he had just attacked a high ranking member of the British government (although Molly had no idea what his position actually was.) But Mycroft stopped them from dragging his brother away, simply asking them to seat him in the corner of the room while a doctor saw to the elder Holmes' bruises.

Molly was standing in front of Sherlock. "I can't wait for Christmas dinner."

Sherlock emotions were everywhere. "He's intolerable. I don't know why he's acting like this. He's the one that insisted I pursue you, then pushed and pushed. Now he insults you and my... intentions and a-abilities," he stuttered.

Molly couldn't stifle her giggle. "Oh good Lord. This is about male pride, isn't it? You want me to go tell him how good you are? Would that put an end to this ridiculousness?"

"I'm sick of his crassness, Molly. And his insinuation that we will be adding to his population of perfection. It's creepy and disgusting."

"Sherlock thinks you crass, creepy and disgusting Mycroft!" Molly called across the exam room.

"I think he's an impulsive child, with no concern for anyone but himself," Mycroft called back.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Stay here, don't move at all do you understand me?" she said and kissed his cheek then she walked up to Mycroft.

He waved off the doctor who was applying something to his chin.

"You have to stop pushing his buttons Mycroft. What's the point of it?" she said with her arms folded.

He didn't respond just looked bored.

"Fine, I'm done. Having to watch the man I love beat the shite out of his brother, in his brother's secret underground lair no less, is enough excitement for me for one day."

Mycroft looked a bit lost for a moment. "Are you two happy Molly?" he asked quietly

"Sherlock makes me very happy Mycroft. I'm actually glad for all of this, even if it is a bit strange at times."

"Right, right. Well off with you then. We will set up the rest of the tests later." Molly turned to go back to Sherlock. "Molly." Mycroft called out. "Thank you for coming in." She just nodded and collected her pouting boyfriend.

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_**Thanks for reading, please review.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**_No beta, I own nothing... enjoy._**

* * *

Molly had been troubled about Mycroft the entire ride back to Baker Street. Sherlock was still quietly fuming, so she let him. She needed to think, something was off about Mycroft (more off than the usual Holmesian issues.) She couldn't put her finger on it, but the more she thought about it the more she realized she had sensed it the day he had come to her flat as well.

_Conflict. Mycroft was conflicted. Perhaps it was simply having to hide his true self,_ she mused. _But perhaps it was something more._

Since their strange courtship and now relationship Molly had grown much more confident with Sherlock. She felt like she could stand up to him and share her opinions. But this was his brother, family was always a bit different.

When the cab pulled up to 221B Molly asked. "I'm hungry, can we run into Speedy's?"

Sherlock nodded and paid the cabby. Once Molly had her food she sat down at a table and Sherlock followed too distracted to notice she hadn't ordered it to go. She ate for a while and gathered her thoughts before speaking. "We need to talk about something."

"Mycroft?" he asked.

"Are you sure you're not empathic?"

"No, just observant, what is it Molly?" he asked looking very troubled.

She took a deep breath. "It's just that... with you for instance I can sense, that you're angry and concerned and of course I can extrapolate that both emotions are directed at your brother because of what we just experienced. Pretty straight forward. But with Mycroft I'm sensing an odd mixture of emotions."

Sherlock leaned forward. "Okay, what's that mean?"

"I have no idea, remember I don't exactly understand this whole thing. I just know that usually I get sense one set at a time, when I concentrate. With him, the last two times I've been in his presence, it's almost like there's more than one of him. Does that make any sense at all?" she asked before nibbling on her lunch.

"No, but I'm not empathic. Some would say I don't even _experience_ empathy, understanding feelings isn't easy for me Molly. I trust you though, not to mention his behavior as of late has been extreme. His interest in the program has been increasing over the years, to the point of obsession. Suddenly he's become a bit Hitler-like with his Master Race notions. Suggestions?"

Molly thought for a moment. "How about you two call a truce? Mostly because I need to spend more time with him and see if I can get a better read on his emotions. Also no matter what's going on it does no good to constantly be at war with your big brother. Would it seem suspicious is we had him over for dinner?"

"It certainly would if I invited him but maybe not if you did it. The girlfriend extending the olive branch, so to speak. You had a little moment there with him at the end... I suppose it would just seem like you're trying to bring the two of us closer."

"Did you just call me you're girlfriend?" She smiled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, Molly I did. It will do for now. I refuse to use that term they picked out for us. John had a very good time ribbing me about it though, at least he enjoyed himself. Contact Mycroft and invite him for dinner. I'll have Angelo make something."

"I can cook." She thought for a moment about the state of 221B. "I'll invite him to mine, tomorrow. That's settled, I'm gonna get a cab home," she said as she started to getting up.

Sherlock frowned. "Why? Come up for a little while," he said as he followed her to the exit.

When they reached the sidewalk in front of the building she turned to him and said. "You're like a horny teenager. I need to check on my cat and do some washing. I left you a fresh bag of toes in the fridge, find something to do with them and stay out of trouble." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair as he held up his hand and summoned a cab.

* * *

Mycroft had accepted her dinner invitation if for no reason than to take the opportunity to encourage Molly to come back for more testing (also she had said something about a tart.) At any rate at 7:30 the next evening Mycroft was ushered into Molly's modest flat by his slightly uncomfortable little brother.

"Mycroft."

"Sherlock. These are for Molly," Mycroft said holding out a bouquet of assorted flowers.

"Well I'm not her. **Molly**!" he called towards the kitchen.

"Oh, hi Mycroft. Aren't they lovely, that was sweet," she said walking in and drying her hands then taking the flowers. "Please take a seat. Can I get you some wine?"

"My PA picked them out, and no wine for me," he said.

"Well please tell Anthea thank you for me. How is she by the way?"

"Fine I suppose," Mycroft responded looking confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She's inquiring about the pregnancy for God's sake."

"Oh, that's going well. Should be no more than a fortnight," he said and again looked a bit odd.

"Wonderful!" Molly said far too cheerfully. "Everything should be done in just a moment. You boys chat and I'll be right back." She turned and left.

The Holmes brothers did not engage in idol chatter. They did not gossip or talk about their favorite football teams. They had only a few shared interests including their parents, science, board games and the occasional case if it were interesting enough.

So they just sat there in silence and awaited Molly's return. Finally she stepped back into the room. When she did she could feel Sherlock's unease, and tension and also a bit of boredom. But from Mycroft once again she was getting such a myriad of emotions she was having a hard time sorting them out.

In the couple of weeks since her enhanced abilities had been brought to her attention she realized that she was subconsciously attempting to hone herself. When she felt a particular emotion she'd focus on it and categorize any secondary emotions in the periphery. Working alone in the morgue (she sensed nothing from the dead bodies, much to her relief) or path lab didn't help much but when she'd come into contact with anyone she'd test herself out. Of course she'd spent an inordinate amount of time with Sherlock and had become quite adept at sensing and separating his emotions. However Mycroft was posing a real challenge.

They ate dinner without incident and even managed something a kin to a genial conversation. When they were finished Molly suggested they retire to the sitting room for coffee and the strawberry tart she'd prepared for them. Sherlock had always teased about his brother's love of sweets, Molly couldn't help but smile as the British government thoroughly enjoyed his second helping and seemed to relax at bit. She squeezed Sherlock's hand and decided he'd get a reward tonight for holding his tongue.

Molly played hostess all night, but spent most of her time trying to work out Mycroft's emotions. By then end of the evening she had a theory but it seemed crazy and she was almost afraid to share it with Sherlock. She saw Mycroft to the door and handed him his umbrella.

"It was a lovely evening, thank you Dr. Hooper, brother," he said with a nod of his head then he was off.

Molly shut the door and turned to Sherlock. "Help with the washing up?"

Sherlock stood up and looked out the peep hole to make sure his brother was gone. When they got to the kitchen Molly asked, "Are we sure he didn't plant any bugs?"

"Yes, I watched him very closely."

"Are there any agents outside?" she asked as she cleaned.

"I'm sure there are, why?" Sherlock handed her more dishes.

"Something is very much not right with your brother. Something's going on and I'm not sure he's aware of it. I worry about how safe it is to speak though. Look at who we're dealing with."

"Right." Sherlock looked around. "You think your flat is compromised?"

"My flat, Baker Street, the deli where I get my egg salad sandwich every Tuesday. This whole thing has me a bit on edge. Suggestions?" Molly asked as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"We never go out, fancy a drink?" He leaned down kissing her cheek. "Don't even bring your purse, it's on me love."

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at a table in the back of a typical London pub. Sherlock was nursing a scotch and Molly was pounding a pint.

"Slow down there," he said.

"I've had a rough couple of days. It takes a lot out of me to concentrate so hard on someone's emotions Sherlock. I didn't even realize I could do it until last week now that I know I can it's almost exhausting."

"Only when you focus?" he asked.

She looked down at the table. "I've been trying to sharpen my abilities. I didn't realize I was doing it at first, but then I was sort of testing them. Then when I realized they were becoming stronger I tried even harder to focus on one person at a time to sense what they were feeling. But like I said it's a bit tiring, like trying to read text that's too small and too far away.

Sherlock reached out and took her hand. "Molly you should have said something. This may be dangerous without the proper guidance and physicians."

Molly gave Sherlock an incredulous look. "Oh, right let's make an appointment with an empathic doctor, I'm sure he can sort me out."

Sherlock huffed.

"It's not anymore dangerous than that Mind Palace construction project that you started at... what? Fifteen, sixteen?

"I was eight, actually."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying... When I try to focus on Mycroft it like there are layers, like..." She looked away then back to Sherlock. "Okay I'll just say it, it's like someone else's emotions are on top on his. I can sense what he's feeling but it's weak, the top layer is somehow stronger, but like it doesn't belong there. If I weren't looking right at him I would swear I was sensing two people. Tonight was a bit different, like he was in a fog but sill layered nonetheless." When she was finished she looked at Sherlock and as tired as she was she tried to focus on him to see if he believed her, he did.

"I can't discount anything you're saying as I have no frame of reference and no reason to doubt you. I just wish we had another empath to help us, someone we could trust."

"Does Mycroft know about me?"

"No, I never mentioned it, it's your personal ability I needed you to understand it first. Also I feared disclosing the information because I frankly didn't want him to turn you into some kind of a tool. I don't think he's spent enough time around you to suspect. Why?"

"Are there other empaths within the group?"

"I've never met one. That doesn't mean they don't exist though."

"I'm not sure they are well known. If you brother or anyone in the lab yesterday had known, I think I would have sensed it. Also I think they would have been more interested my abilities than drawing my blood and giving me a pelvic. No, this may be rare. Which leads me back to my earlier point. If I can sense others emotions do you think someone can have the ability to effect someone else's emotions?"

"You think that's what's going on with Mycroft. The layering you spoke about?"

"Yes, you said he's acting differently and that he's become obsessed with the program. What if someone is manipulating him with their... well with their mind?"

Sherlock leaned back and steepled his hands under his chin, he was quiet for several minutes. Molly took this as a very good sign, he was in his Mind Palace considering her words. She took the time to enjoy her pint. After about ten minutes he said. "I hope I don't have to point out the irony of Mycroft Holmes being manipulated by someone else."

"Not the time for pettiness Sherlock."

"Still you have to admit..." He looked at her and understood he shouldn't be enjoying any of this. "Okay, we have a theory. Now we have to find the person responsible."

"I have some thoughts on that as well. My guess is that they'd have to have near constant contact with your brother to keep up that kind of influence. Also it stands to reason that he would seem to trust them, they'd make sure of it. Any ideas?"

"Four." He said as he tossed back the rest of his scotch.

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**_Review please, thanks for reading._ **


	12. Chapter 12

_**I own nothing, no beta... enjoy.**_

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Molly decided to just take the week off and concentrate on the Advantis situation. This was far too important to put off. So she and Sherlock were once again being ushered into labs by pushy government scientists. Mycroft was nowhere in sight.

"Where is my brother?" Sherlock asked the closest white coat cloaked lackey.

"Mr. Holmes is quite busy today. If he has the time he will be joining us later," the drone doctor replied. "Right this way please."

They were taken into the sensory test lab where Sherlock's tests had been conducted.

"I thought we were doing a pelvic exam today," Molly said.

"No OB available right now I'm afraid, if you don't mind Dr. Hooper." Drone doctor motioned for Molly to sit in front of some random equipment.

Sherlock and Molly exchanged a look. "Why does it have to be a specialist?" she asked "Any GP can perform the examination."

Molly immediately sensed the man's anxiety shoot up. "Mr. Holmes requested a specialist, I'm sorry that's all I know."

The testing took nearly four hours. They tested Molly's hearing, sight, olfactory, and even her tactile senses. She took a rather strange IQ test and had to sign her name twenty times on several different things including using a stylist on a tablet type device. By then end Molly was tired and bored, the only interesting part of the day had been the IQ test and it had only taken about thirty-five minutes. Sherlock looked like he was about to strangle the next person he saw wearing a lab coat. Fortunately for everyone involved his brother finally showed up with a very pregnant woman, her face plastered to her smart phone.

"All finished I see," he said with a far too pleasant smile on his face.

Molly once again tried to decipher his emotions but it was even harder today, almost like Mycroft wasn't present at all. She had been trying to read the people who had been conducting the testing all day and she sensed nothing out of the norm from any of them, other a bit of nerves. The only word she could come up with to describe Mycroft at the moment was..._ plastic._

Molly knew the pregnant woman was Anthea even though she'd had never met her in person. They had spoken over the phone on several occasions and Molly had received numerous texts from her during Sherlock's two year mission. She had seen Anthea the day of the broadcast, but only from afar standing with a group of agents as she was ushered into Baker Street.

As Sherlock and Mycroft discussed scheduling further testing, Molly pretended to listen but tried to get a read on Anthea. She couldn't. _Nothing._ It was as if she had no feelings or emotions... none. She was as blank as the corpses in the morgue. It was the strangest thing. Molly concentrated harder until she couldn't even hear what the brothers were talking about. She still felt nothing coming from the pregnant PA. Suddenly Molly looked over at the woman, Anthea's eyes were huge and she had the strangest look on her face. That's when the room spun, her vision tunneled and Molly went down. The last thing she remembered was Sherlock calling her name.

Molly woke up a few minutes later with Sherlock's hand on her forehead as he whispered gentile words. She couldn't make them out at first but she knew he was trying to console her. "Molly!" He looked away. "She's coming to." Suddenly Mycroft was by his side along with a no named doctor.

"Well perhaps I misjudged my brother." He looked at the doctor. "Let's schedule that pelvic exam shall we?"

"Oh for God's sake Mycroft, she's not pregnant. It's only been a few days since..." He trailed off when he realized what he was about to say.

"Rest Molly, a nurse will be in shortly to draw some blood." Mycroft said before strolling away followed by the other man.

Once they were alone in the exam room Molly reached up and drug Sherlock down for an embrace. "Where's Anthea?" she whispered in his ear.

"She left shortly you fainted."

"How'd she look?" Molly asked.

"I don't know Molly, you had just passed out for no apparent reason. I wasn't paying attention to my brother's PA. Why?"

"I think she caused it Sherlock. Anthea did something to me," she said in his ear before pulling back and looking into his eyes.

The nurse nervously finished Molly's blood draw and retreated. Sherlock paced at the foot of the exam bed hands balled into fists at his sides. His emotions were practically poring out of him like a river. Molly wished more than anything that she could calm him down. "Sherlock come here, sit with me. Please?"

Finally Sherlock looked back to her and stiffly walked to the side of the bed.

"Hold me, I don't feel well," she begged as he sat down and put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry Molly. But I right now I want to strangle a pregnant woman. I have to say, that's a compulsion I never thought I'd experience. Are you feeling faint again?" he asked into her hair.

"No, I'm fine now. But this is the only way we can talk and I had hoped it would calm you down." She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke. "Listen, if she comes back I need you to distract or upset her anything that might break her concentration. But no strangling."

Twenty minutes and a lot of cuddling and whispering later, Mycroft came back with Anthea in tow. Molly tensed and Sherlock's rage boiled right back up although he hid it well.

"Well, you're not pregnant and we can't find any reason for the fainting spell except slightly lowered blood sugar." He turned to Sherlock. "Forgetting to feed your True One brother, beginners mistake I suppose," Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow, Anthea giggled behind him without even looking up from her phone.

Sherlock fought back the urge to once again lung at the woman and instead used his tongue. "Yes, I can see you've been hard at work making sure Anthea is well fed. Don't suppose she's missed a meal in ages."

That got her attention. "I'm pregnant you ass."

"Carrying the child in your rear end 'Thea?" Sherlock responded quickly.

"Poor taste brother mine, to attack a pregnant woman. But not unexpected." Mycroft suddenly raised his hand to his head.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked. Molly was watching Anthea who seemed to be straining even if she barely showed it. She tried to read Anthea, she had hoped the break in concentration would allow her to get a quick read, it didn't work. At that moment Molly decided that to do something. Anthea clearly knew something was going on with Molly, and she wanted to test it out a bit. So Molly played the concerned woman.

"Anthea, are you okay? Is it the baby?" Molly asked touching her arm.

Anthea flinched. "I'm fine Dr. Hooper. Don't worry, I'm made of stronger stuff than you, obviously." Molly couldn't help but hear the threat.

Mycroft quickly recovered. "Just a bit of a headache." He turned to his personal assistant. "Some coffee wouldn't go amiss dear."

"Yes, sir," she said before making a waddling retreat.

"I'm taking Molly home. This has been... tedious," Sherlock said taking Molly's hand.

"You didn't have to come Sherlock, I'm sure Molly could handle herself quite well on her own," Mycroft said with a smile that Molly couldn't help think wasn't quite his own.

* * *

Bless the man, Sherlock let Molly sleep on his lap during the cab ride back to Baker Street, he had plans to make and texts to send. He woke her as he was paying for the cab and they made their way up to the flat. When they got inside he held up a finger to his mouth.

"You're tired love. Go lay down," he said to Molly kissing her head then whispered, "I have someone coming to help sweep the flat." Then he smoothed down her hair and walked her to the bedroom. "Sleep well."

She stripped out of her clothes and laid down in bed wearing just her knickers. She didn't think she'd be able to go to sleep again but whether it was what Anthea did to her or the over-exaggeration of trying to read someone who was apparently unreadable, Molly fell into a deep sleep.

Sherlock woke her three hours later with light kisses to her shoulder and arm. Molly rolled over as he enveloped her in his arms. "I never fed you," he said.

"That's okay, I need to lose weight, someone's been fattening me up."

He smiled. "I had Angelo make us dinner, you must be starving. Come." He got up and handed her his best dressing gown.

Molly followed Sherlock into the sitting room to find a full Italian meal. He turned to her and said, "It's fine to speak, I'm confident we found everything."

"Did you check the bedroom, I didn't hear a thing."

"Yes, I was very quiet. And I wouldn't let anyone else in there, too... well, you were in there." He sat down and tucked in to the meal with gusto.

Molly was almost finished when the doorbell rang and she heard Mrs. Hudson chattering with a man at the front door. Sherlock jumped up and ran down the stairs. He returned with a cat carrier and Molly's largest suitcase followed by a poorly dressed young man that she vaguely recognized carrying several bags from Tesco.

"Toby!" Molly grabbed the carrier and opened it to find a very disgruntled tabby. As soon as his path was cleared he sprinted out and hid under the sofa. Molly stood back up. "He'll be there for a while. Always like this after a trip to the vet." She turned a questioning eye to Sherlock.

"I didn't see the point of fully sweeping two flats, also I thought this was safer." He quickly found Billy in the kitchen drinking a bottle of water. "Did you look in the flowers?" Molly made her way to the bedroom to put some clothes on.

"Yep, jus like you said. Found a bug like the ones 'ere," Billy replied before taking another drink.

"And..."

"Oh, 'ere." He fished in his pocket and pulled out the listening devise.

"What took you so long?"

"'At cat's evil! Next time you go get the cat and I'll watch the Missus," Billy said wiggling his eyebrows.

Before Sherlock could respond Molly wondered into the kitchen. "So, you're Billy."

Billy immediately ducked his head down. "Yes miss."

"We haven't been formally introduced, but I understand you've been part of my security detail. I guess I should thank you."

Billy smiled and nodded, all of his previous cheek suddenly vanishing.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes, well thank you. Let me know when you have it ready," he said as he led Billy to the door.

"Have what ready?" Molly asked.

"Our weapon."

"Weapon? What weapon?"

"The only way we are going to be able to stop Anthea permanently, is to disable her temporally. Unfortunately she's pregnant, that make this a bit more delicate. Good for us Billy is an excellent chemist."

"Did you also know he's Advantis?" Molly asked.

Sherlock looked a bit taken-a-back. "No, no I didn't. Are you sure?"

"Yes. You like puzzles, I like proof. Every time I've come into contact with an Advantis I've paid attention to their pheromones, or tried to I should say. Didn't you?"

"No, I haven't gone out of my way to detect any," he said wondering what Molly was getting at.

"How many of the people at the lab were Advantis?"

"Mycroft told me which ones were and which ones weren't during my testing. I didn't actively try to ferret them out."

"It's a faint, but I could tell," Molly explained. "But Billy today..." Her eyes got wide.

Then Sherlock realized what she was saying. "Oh, his attraction to you. But why couldn't I tell? My advanced Olfactory should have picked up on it."

"Theorize love, could be several things; maybe because you're male, maybe because you weren't paying enough attention, or most likely because he and I had never been in the same room with you at the same time. At any rate, Billy is Advantis."

Sherlock shrugged. "Could be that he usually smells like more like a skip than anything else."

Molly gave Sherlock a sly grin. "His pheromones don't."

Sherlock huffed, "Are you telling me you like how Billy Wiggins smells?"

"I'm saying that he shouldn't have a hard time finding his True One." She smiled.

"Ugh... that word... you should only have a nose for me Molly May!" Sherlock said wrapping his arms around her.

"Don't worry! I do!" She kissed him to prove her point.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

_**I own nothing, no beta... enjoy.**_

* * *

A plan was hatched. The plan depended on many things, one of which was Sherlock's assumption that soon Anthea would realize that the listening devices had been discovered and she would confront Sherlock and Molly. He knew that she'd wait to see if he went to Mycroft and questioned him in regards to the bugs, which he did not. Now he needed back up in the form of the Watsons both in their medical and tactical training.

Mid afternoon the next day Sherlock was proven right. Mrs. Hudson let her in.

"Where did you tell my brother you were going?" Sherlock asked from his chair.

She stood in the doorway. "Ultrasound. Where's Dr. Hooper?"

"Not here," he said. "That must have been quite a walk up those stairs, would you like to take a seat?"

She offered him a fake smile. "Don't mind if I do."

"Are we going to cut to the chase about this or would you like to try to convince me you're not controlling my brother?"

"I want to see Molly," she replied.

"You need to answer my questions Anthea. Why? What is the purpose of all of this?" He had sent a text off to the Watson's as soon as heard her heavy footfalls on the stairs. He merely needed to stall her long enough for them to arrive, just a few minutes. Though in fairness he was actually curious.

"Right now I need to understand what Molly is, and why we affect each other the way we do. I want to see Molly."

Sherlock took a deep breath just as he heard his bedroom door open and saw Molly walking down the hallway. "Anthea, can I make you some tea?"

She got to her feet to face the empath. "I've known the Holmes brothers long enough to know better than except the gift of food or drink while trying to maintain the upper hand. No thank you Dr. Hooper."

"Fine. I'm here, what is it that you want?" Molly stood next to Sherlock's chair with her arms folded across her chest.

"You and I have a problem. You're the one variable in my plans that I didn't account for and I can't have that. I have to admit, if you are what I think you are, you would be fascinating to study and no doubt a valuable asset. However, I will redirect Mycroft's attention away from the two of you, if you agree to let me continue my work."

"And what work is that exactly? You're the puppeteer, my brother's the puppet but what play are we watching? Why does Mycroft Holmes need to be controlled?"

"You have no idea how important this is Sherlock. This is our future. The entire program was almost shut down after the Moriarty fiasco. That's when I started putting pressure on the right people. The EU, in their infinite wisdom and missing backbone, was about to turn their Advantis research and development over to the Americans. Can you imagine? All that work for nothing just because of one little psychopath."

Molly and Sherlock exchanged a look. "Truth telling Anthea?" Molly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Jim? Were you adding your little psychic two cents worth when Jim happened?" Molly asked.

Anthea balled her fists and squared to the pathologist. "Yes, as a matter of fact I was. If we could possibly create more Advantis rather than waiting around to over take the population I wouldn't be forced to deal with up-tight bureaucrats like Mycroft Holmes."

"So that's what happened? You took James Moriarty and tried to make him one of us," Molly said.

"We had several test subjects, his was the only successful gene manipulation," Anthea said proudly.

Molly laughed. "You call Jim a success? You created a psychopath. He killed people Anthea, he tried to kill Sherlock and our friends."

"He was nuts long before we got our hands on him, we just didn't know it. I'm still not convinced that his behavior had anything to do with us."

"This is all fascinating but I want to know what your end game is and remember who you're dealing with Anthea." Sherlock jumped in.

"I'm not James, Sherlock, I have no intention of explaining everything to you in some kind of ridiculous monologue. Suffice it to say, soon there will be enough Advantis in charge of the world, to make it a better place."

Sherlock laughed. "World domination?" He looked at Molly. "You know it's not my birthday."

"Sherlock." Molly warned.

"You don't have a choice. I will relinquish control of you brother only when I know the group is strong enough to take power from the fools that are currently in charge. I'm not stopping Sherlock and you will not make me. The headache yesterday was a interesting display wasn't it? I wonder what else I can do to your brother."

Anthea quickly turned her attention away from Sherlock. "Stop trying Molly, it's obviously not going to happen," Anthea said glaring at the empath.

"Stop trying to push my feelings Anthea, you've been doing it since I walked in here. The only thing I can feel from you is pure energy clearly you're attempting to gain control over me."

"Why not me Anthea?" Sherlock asked trying to distract her.

"You're not the only one who likes a puzzle Mr. Holmes. She's an enigma. I can't get to her and I want to know why," she said turning back to Molly.

Molly started feeling dizzy and she knew she was going down again but this time Sherlock would be too busy to attend her.

As Anthea tried in vain to gain control of Molly, Sherlock rammed the needle into Anthea neck. She turned wide-eyed to face the detective. "What? You'd harm you own nephew?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He'll be fine, and so will you, but you should go sit on the sofa, I'll leave you on the floor if you fall." Anthea stumbled to sit.

Sherlock went to Molly who had managed not to pass out before Sherlock broke Anthea's concentration. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit dizzy." She sat down in Sherlock's chair.

Sherlock went to the door and called for the Watsons, a minute later Mary and John came up the stairs.

"Wow, she is _very_ pregnant," John said as he rounded the sofa.

"Ever the apt observer," Sherlock said dryly.

"This won't work Sherlock. Whatever you've given me won't keep me out for..." Then she slumped back, out cold.

John and Mary turned Anthea so she was laying down then John checked her pulse. "She seems fine, I hope the baby is too."

"He is, I gave her the same drug Billy mixed for Mary when she was pregnant." Sherlock explained. "Now, we have to keep her out. Did you bring everything?"

John paced away and then back to Anthea. "Um, yes. It's just... Sherlock I don't know if I can do this."

"What? I explained everything John. Weren't you listening to her little version of Mein Kamph? She's vile and more than a bit deranged."

"Um, yes. We heard. But Sherlock she's pregnant, I'm a bloody doctor. I'm suddenly very uncomfortable with this idea of yours."

Both Molly and Sherlock turned to Anthea. Either she wasn't really out or she could control someone in her sleep. Sherlock had to test his theory.

"John if you won't do what we agreed to then I'll have to do something more drastic. Molly do you think you can perform a c-section, I can keep her out while you do the surgery," he said giving Molly a look that he knew she'd understand.

Molly concentrated on Sherlock's emotions very hard, hoping to God they were on the same page. "Of course. It's been a while, so I can't guarantee anything. But I did a rotation in OB before choosing pathology." Not at all true... just more of the show.

John stepped in front of Sherlock. "Are you insane? You can't deliver a baby in your flat. This has gone too far. I'm a doctor, I can't allow this Sherlock," he said holding a hand up to his best friend.

Mary finally realized what was going on. "John, she's got you."

"Mary, we were trying to be covert. I thought you of all people would appreciate that idea," said an exasperated Sherlock.

"Well you were failing and she's not unconscious. I saved us all some time," Mary said taking John by the arm.

Anthea sat up and every turned their attention to her. "Looks like your little cocktail doesn't work on Advantis as well as it does on normal humans. I'm disappointed in you Sherlock, you're supposed to be brilliant."

"I farmed this one out, so hard to find good homeless chemists these days," Sherlock said with his hands casually in his pockets. "So now what 'Thea?"

Mary had moved to stand in front of the doorway and Molly just a few feet away. Anthea looked around the room. "Do you think you people stand a chance? I know you won't harm a pregnant woman, and I can control any or all of you if I wish. This will not end well for you."

"You can't control me, remember?" Molly said stepping closer to the woman.

"Dr. Hooper, if you think for one moment that I'm the least bit afraid of you, you're very much mistaken."

"You're standing in a room with two Advantis, one of witch is a genius..." Molly started.

"Don't sell you're self short Molly, I think you're probably a genius too," Sherlock said giving Molly a sweet smile.

"Thanks love, back to what I was saying... two doctors, a nurse who was once a trained killer and the aforementioned genius, who only recently realized he cared at all for anyone but himself. Do you really think we can't out wit you? Face it sweetheart... you're out numbered."

Anthea got a panicked look on her face and started looking around from person to person frantically. Suddenly Mary moved toward Molly as did John both looking a bit... _angry_. Molly backed up trying to read them, she was having a hard time so she concentrated on Mary. Similarly to Mycroft there was a layering effect but is wasn't nearly as strong and she could feel Mary fighting, _she was aware._ Suddenly Sherlock rushed to Molly to protect her from their best friends. With Sherlock by her side she felt a bit better and she glanced up at Anthea. That's when she realized how strained the woman was. Molly turned her attention to the PA. Anthea's concentration broke when she felt Molly trying to read her and for a split second Molly felt Anthea. It was fleeting but she knew she got a quick read.

"Stop!" Molly yelled. "Anthea, just stop. We'll let you leave. Let them go and you can walk out." Sherlock was holding onto Molly's arm and he looked down at her. "It's fine Sherlock, let her leave."

Anthea relaxed and so did the Watsons.

"Wise decision Dr. Hooper. I'm glad you see that you have no real choice here." She picked up her handbag. "My intention is only to improve the world around us, you will see," she said before she left the flat.

John and Mary were a bit disorientated, Molly led them to the sofa then turned to Sherlock. "I had her for a split second. She's weak when she controls more than one person. We can work with that. She also never had complete control over Mary, I could feel Mary fighting through. We need a better plan and you need to tell us everything you know about her," she said before collapsing into Sherlock's chair exhausted.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading._**


	14. Chapter 14

**_I own nothing, no beta... there be smut in this one... look out._ **

* * *

Sherlock made tea for everyone while Molly questioned the Watsons about their experience. Just as she suspected, both John and Mary knew they were being controlled. John, however, had only a vague awareness of missing time when Anthea controlled him alone. Molly had hoped this was the case, she'd tried to read more than one person at a time and found it both exhausting and very difficult, so it stood to reason that the same might be true for Anthea. She was working on a theory.

She turned to Sherlock. "Rather a big coincidence that your brother's PA turned out to be an Advantis."

"Yes, there's a story there, however the Watsons need to collect their child and you need some rest." Sherlock said bringing Molly a fresh cup.

Molly looked at him like she was trying to decide between punching him and kissing him.

"Give Lizzy our love," he said as he ushered his friends to the door. "And thanks for the help, although to be fair John was more of a hindrance."

"Not my fault mate," John said over his shoulder.

"Yes, yes. Controlled by a megalomaniacal, pregnant woman. I was there." He shut the door and turned to Molly. "Now, off to bed with you as soon as you finish your tea." He picked up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. When he got back he found a scowling Molly.

"I have theories and we should be going over all the information she gave us. Sometimes I'm not sure how I feel about the new you. Shouldn't we be trying to stop her, sleep be damned?"

"It's you I'm worried about. Clearly you overexerted yourself today. It won't do you any good to drop over from exhaustion. I'm fine, I'll be able to get some work done while you rest."

"I suppose _attempting_ to drug someone and making snarky comments aren't exactly taxing." Molly retorted before taking a large drink of her tea. "Still, you need me. I'm the only one who understands her and what she can do." She looked at the floor. "At least to some extent."

Sherlock motioned to her tea and Molly absently picked it up. "Yes love, you are vitally important. And as soon as you rest we will get back to work, but a quick nap won't matter one way or another."

She drained the rest of her tea. "Like I said, not sure how I feel about this Sherlock that values sleep and food... It's weird." They both stood up and Molly stumbled and Sherlock put his arm around her waist. She turned to him with glazed but slightly fiery eyes. "You fucking drugged me!"

"Yes I did. I knew you'd want to work on a solution right away and what you need is rest. Don't worry, it's just enough for a couple of hours."

"Is this some kind of kink I should know about?" she asked as they made their way to the bedroom.

"Yes Molly, I have a fetish for well rested pathologists." Sherlock sat her on the bed and started undressing her. She let him only because she didn't have enough energy to do it herself.

"How many conversations do we have to have 'bout boundaries Shlerlock?" Her speech was a bit slurred.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Shlerlock?" He pointed out as he laid her down and covered her up.

"I'm not wearing any clothes," she said, though slowly.

"I left your knickers on. Get some rest and when you get up we'll talk about how my brother managed to hire Eva Braun as his PA." He bent down and kissed her forehead.

"That's one too many Nazi jokes, you've reached you're limit." She managed just before falling asleep.

Sherlock chuckled as he walked out of the room, loving the fact that he had really met his match in Molly May Hooper.

* * *

Molly woke to the feeling of a hand caressing her side and warm lips on her neck. It took a few moments for her mind to catch up to what her body was feeling. She stretched and rolled onto her belly. Sherlock ran his hand down her back and over her bottom. She hummed in approval. He continued his kisses down her back then up and across her shoulders. She moaned and tried to roll over but he held her down. He ran his hand just inside her knickers grazing the top of her cleft, she giggled as he followed the line until it ended with her warm, moist center and her giggles stopped. He teased her until she rose up onto her knees encouraging more contact, but his torment continued. She was still a bit groggy but not so much to not realize that her lover was being cruel.

"What? Drugging me wasn't enough... now you're going to tease me into oblivion?"

"Not teasing, getting you ready." He moved behind her and dragged her pants off slowly. "I had something else in mind until you rolled over and presented me with this lovely little arse of yours," he said palming her bum squeezing both sides in his large hands. "Now you've given me ideas." He leaned down and licked a stripe up her sex but not ending where she expected. When he didn't stop, but indeed kept going swirling his tongue around her puckered hole Molly pulled back. Sherlock's grip tightened and pulled her toward him. "You didn't like that?" he asked in hid deepest baritone, his mouth hovering over the area in question.

"J-just unexpected," Molly answered breathlessly.

Sherlock hummed in response and kissed her this time before letting his tongue take over. Molly moaned and he decided to move forward with his plan. He dipped a finger into her center and she pushed back to encourage his exploration. He added another finger as he continued his oral assault, he brushed his thumb across her clit and (if he hadn't been prepared and had the forethought to pull his face back just a bit) she may have broken his nose, when she bucked back.

"Oh God... feels... sooo..." Her sentence died as he attached to her clit and drove her to her climax, rubbing her arsehole with his thumb as he finished her off. She collapsed onto the bed as Sherlock reached and grabbed a condom.

"Come on. Up, Up!" he said lightly smacking her bum.

"Fuck Sherlock!" she said as she returned to her previous position on shaky legs. "That... was amazing."

"Glad you liked it, but I'm far from done with you Dr. Hooper." He dipped a finger into her and she looked back.

"Are you really worried I might not be read..."

What ever she was going to say was interrupted as Sherlock started inching the same finger into her arsehole. "You okay?"

"Ahhh, yes!" she said with her head buried in a pillow. He slowly worked until he got exactly where he wanted to be then he drove his cock into her hard. Molly called out thrusting to meet his cock and finger.

"Nothing should feel this good!" Sherlock said as he started pumping. "You still with me love?"

"Don't stop, please don't! Feels so good!" Molly panted, trying to keep up with Sherlock's thrusts plus all the amazing new sensations he was giving her. She almost couldn't believe she was enjoying it so much, then she realized of course she was enjoying it... it was Sherlock. She felt so completely full, but also like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh, fuck Molly I'm close. Come with me!" He encircled his free arm around Molly's waist and slammed into her even harder as he heard her call out his name and felt her crash down on him. He followed a couple thrusts later.

They both flopped unceremoniously onto the bed, panting happily. "I have to go clean up, but I don't want to move. Sex with you is more exhausting than single-handedly bringing down an entire terror cell." He winked. "And much more satisfying." Then he got up slowly and went to the loo.

As much as Molly believed that Sherlock loved her and wanted to be with her, it wasn't until that exact moment that she really realized that she was more important to him than everything else now. The epiphany brought tears to her eyes. She quickly dried her face not wanting Sherlock to think anything was wrong as she rose to get get fresh pants.

Sherlock walked back in smelling like peppermint and smiling like a fool. "I cleaned my teeth, do I get a kiss now?"

"Yes well I haven't and I was asleep a bit longer than a couple of hours. You lied," she said smacking him in the chest with her knickers.

"I did, I do that and I drug tea. Just some of my quirks." He studied her for a moment. "Why were you crying? Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. That was fun, surprising but fun. Though usually one has a conversation before venturing down that particular path Sherlock."

"No need for conversation, I deduced." He smirked. "Now stop distracting me, why were you crying?"

She rolled her eyes and looked down. "It's... you'll think it's completely ridiculous."

He took her chin and pulled her back up to look at him. "Try me, I eat now, I sleep now. Who knows what other treasures this new Sherlock holds."

She worried her lip. "It was what you said just before you left the room, it was really sweet, that's all. Made me a bit weepy."

Sherlock felt like he might drown in those giant brown eyes. He smiled. "Well I meant it. Now stop being adorable and alluring or I may just have say something else that makes you cry again." He kissed her soundly before she went to freshen up.

* * *

Sherlock sat across from Molly and explained how Anthea came to be in his brother's employ. It might have seemed rather unremarkable were it not for all the other remarkable events surrounding the woman.

"Anthea was among the first group of test subjects in the HGP, an early discovery," he said taking a sip of coffee. "When she graduated university my brother recruited her into his department. She was a lower level assistant for a few years until he brought her up to assist him."

Molly thought for a moment. "You don't find that suspicious?"

"I find most things suspicious Molly. That's why I asked him how he just happened to have an Advantis as an assistant when he told me she was to be impregnated. Then he explained, it all seemed plausible if not a bit neat and tidy."

Molly nodded. "Of course she could have been influencing people all along. Making sure she got to the right place. I mean who's more powerful than your brother?"

"The Queen, but she's not Advantis, they've checked. The Prime Minister, but that's an ever changing position. Once she got her mental hooks into Mycroft she'd have control of the most powerful Advantis in the country." He looked pensive for a moment. "You had theories?"

"Yes, she's week when she tries to control several people at once. If we can get her to spread herself too thin we will have an advantage. Also," She looked down and took a deep breath. "Sherlock, John and Mary were disorientated after only a few moments of control. There may be some damage from long term exposure. Mycroft's mind may be compromised. I'm sorry."

Sherlock nodded his head. He had of course considered this himself. He had seen moments of disorientation in his brother when Anthea was absent. "Any ideas how to deal with that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to be her opposite Molly, her antithesis. Do you think you can do anything to help my brother?"

Molly considered Sherlock's request. She had no idea if she could do something like this. She could read others emotions and Anthea could influence them. Could Molly undo the damage Anthea had inflicted on Mycroft after years of control? "I don't know Sherlock. But I'll do everything within my power to help your brother."

Sherlock studied Molly for a moment over his cup of tea, taking in her simple beauty and kind, reassuring smile. "I love you, I know I don't say it often but I do."

Molly just smiled.

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_**Thanks for reading.**_


	15. Chapter 15

**_I own nothing... no beta... enjoy._**

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Molly finally got back to work. Evil, pregnant, super-human, PA's notwithstanding, there were postmortems to be done and Molly was itching to have a bit of normalcy in her routine once again. She had spent the morning returning emails and putting her lab back together after the mess the interns had made of it. Sherlock had managed to only text her three times, which was somewhat shocking considering he had tried to persuade her to take an additional week off, claiming they needed to focus on Anthea. She had serious doubts as to the legitimacy of his request, firstly because his naked body was wrapped around her equally bare form at the time. Secondly she sensed deception in his emotions. She knew he was mostly joking and if he wanted to hide it from her he probably could, but Sherlock rarely did that... anymore (unless he was drugging her to sleep.)

Sensing deceit wasn't something Molly felt she was particularly good at, just yet. She could manage it with Sherlock but only because they'd spent so much time together and she could read him better than anyone else. She knew everyone had always considered her as naïve and falling for Sherlock's overbearing bulling for the first several years of their association hadn't helped. However, if she could use her newly discovered talent to her advantage... she was going to and not feel bad about it. When coming in contact with others she went right back to honing her skills.

Molly had something much bigger on her mind today as she went about her busy work. _Mycroft. Could she help him? And if so, how?_ She had an idea of how to test it, but it was a bit unethical and was skirting the outer edges of her comfort level... she had to do something.

Her mind had been so focused on her plan to help Mycroft she hadn't even realized it was lunch time until her stomach reminded her. She was standing in line waiting to pay for what appeared to be some kind of casserole and fruit when she heard her name.

She turned to see none other than the infamous Janine McSlag (okay so that wasn't her last name but it's what Molly called her.)

"Sorry, I know we only spoke once at Mary's wedding but when I saw I couldn't help myself, had to see how you were doing. So how's things?" Janine asked.

Molly got a good look at the Irish beauty. There was quite a bit more of her than there was last time she saw her (mostly around the middle.) Janine was about six months gone.

"I'm well thank you," Molly said as she did the fastest math she'd ever done in her life. _Of course... that doesn't work out at all... not even possible... it'd be the longest pregnancy in the history of human kind!_ She thought as she relaxed. Molly paid for her food and looked around for a table as Janine followed, it was all a bit uncomfortable. "How are you? I mean." Looking down at her protruding belly. "Everything going well?"

Janine rubbed her bump and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, going great! If you like havin' to wee all the time and bein' bloated like the Hindenburg. But can't complain. I asked for it, as I'm sure you well know!"

Molly cocked her head to the side, "Um..."

"Oh, I just assumed Mary would have told you, she knows all about it of course."

Molly sat down and so did Janine. "Ah, no Janine. Mary and I haven't discussed you lately," she said through slightly gritted teeth.

"Oh, well surely Sherlock would have, I mean I know you two are close. Use to talk about you all the time, even in his sleep, I think he was sleep-deducing... what am I sayin'? Of course he didn't tell anyone. Such an arse. Probably never thought about it again, after," she said looking off in the distance.

Molly dropped her fruit cup drawing Janine's attention. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a whisper.

"Well he arranged it. Well pointed me in the right direction, I should say," Janine said with wide eyes, looking at the fruity mess laying about the table.

Molly exhaled loudly. "Oh, thank God."

"Oh, did you...?" Janine started, then laughed. "No, no, no... not his. Couldn't get a drop out of that man we were both squeezin' him, huh?"

Molly was so relieved she almost forgot the important question. "What do you mean he arranged it?"

"I was ah... lookin' for a donor, and he helped me get in touch with the best in the country, through his brother I believe. I never actually met him, though. Anyway here we are. I'm so excited! Isn't it grand?"

_No, not grand!_ Molly thought,_ of course I'm sure they were all too happy to impregnate some poor, hapless Irish lass, with birthing hips and breasts a made for milkin' – this is disgusting._ Molly suddenly felt very guilty for secretly hating poor Janine. She made every effort to listen as she droned on about the pregnancy and baby names. Molly took the opportunity to read her (not that every emotion wasn't clear and present as she squealed her excitement about nursery colors.)

Suddenly Molly realized she felt something very strange coming from Janine... like she'd never sensed before. It was less of an emotion and nothing like the layering she sensed when Anthea was involved. It was a presence... it was... innocence... it was... beauty. She concentrated harder looking for an emotion... _there_, she found it... contentment... _It's the baby_. She could sense the baby. Molly looked up at Janine and smiled. Of course poor Janine (she will always be poor Janine from this point onward) just thought Molly was especially fond of celadon and dark coral as nursery colors. No, the feeling coming from Janine's baby was something amazing... Molly was suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

That's when it hit her. She'd never felt this from Anthea... _she's not really pregnant!_ Molly quickly made her excuses about leaving in the middle of an autopsy and rushed back to the path lab. Still not sure how safe it was, for all she knew the lab and morgue were bugged too, so she sent an urgent text to Sherlock asking him to come to St. Barts.

Twenty-five minutes later he came rushing in. Molly grabbed him by the elbow turning him around and directing him back down the hall.

"What the...?" he started.

"Not here," she said as they made their way down a long hallway. She kept leading him until she found what she was looking for and shoved him into an abandoned file room.

"Oh, Molly we need to have some kind of code, I was actually worried that something might be wrong. We can work that out later, though," he said as he grabbed her face and attacked her lips.

For a split second she thought about giving in, then remembered she not only had vital information but was a little pissed at the great buffoon with the delicious lips. She wiggled free and pushed him back. "Mmm... NO! Not that!"

Sherlock pulled back looking all of an injured puppy. "What was that for?"

"I'm going to explain this in very plain English so as you can't misunderstand me. When you help your ex-fake-girlfriend get pregnant it's always a good idea to tell your current girlfriend so that when she runs into said ex-fake-girlfriend, she won't mistake the child for yours. Understand?" Molly folded her arms across her chest and let the words sink in.

"Oh. I honestly never thought about that again after she called me and I called Mycroft. I was making plans to court you. My mind was quite occupied."

"Making plans?"

"Yes, I have detailed notes and a graph. Would you like to see it?"

Molly huffed. "Save it for our anniversary. Why did you think it was a good idea to send Janine off to your brother and his mad scientists? You didn't use her enough, so you passed her off to your Mycroft? Is there a distant uncle you'd like to contact to see if they'd like to have a go at the poor girl?"

She was staring at him with _that look_... it was so much worse than John's a bit not good. "I was trying to help her Molly and in my defense at the time I didn't know anything was amiss at the Advantis labs and for the most part nothing is." Molly rolled her eyes, Sherlock started to panic. "Did she tell you that she asked for my donation first?"

Molly gasped.

Sherlock smiled proudly. "Yes. I of course said no, and immediately thought of the program. Who better to have a stock pile of DNA worthy of Janine... Ah...Janine... well her, I really must have deleted her last name. She wanted a genius baby she might get one... just not mine. That ones only for you." He added for good measure along with a wink.

Molly narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "You are awful, you know that? Fine. But when this is all taken care of and that baby is born you will make sure she get's a DNA test. Knowing that bunch they may not have used Janine's eggs at all. Poor girl," she said.

"Poor girl... Mary told me you once called her..."

"I know perfectly well what I may have said in the past." Molly interrupted. "But it was said over drinks and sexual frustration. Let's leave it at that." Molly straightened her lab coat. "Now, much more importantly. I could sense Janine's baby."

"Okay."

"I've never sensed a thing from Anthea. Nothing. Anthea's not pregnant. Not that I can tell. She's lying Sherlock and I propose she's pushing you just a bit, just enough to keep you from realizing it. She can probably just fool the rest of us with one of those suit things." Molly stepped back and let Sherlock absorb the latest news.

Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin and thought for a few minutes. Then looked back to Molly. "Well this changes everything doesn't it?"

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_**I don't hate Janine... just don't like her pawing all over our boy. Reviews welcome, thanks for reading.** _


	16. Chapter 16

_I own nothing, no beta._

_**There is quite a bit of conversation about Alzheimer's disease in this chapter. It's quite emotional. If that's a trigger-please skip it. I'm once again making some wild scientific jumps between actual science and my little world. I mean no offense. As a matter of fact, like most of us I too have been affected by this debilitating disease. I chose to use my aunt's name for the character with Alzheimer's as she unfortunately suffers from the affliction. It's my little tribute to her, I love her so much.**_

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_~This is for my amazing, beautiful, sassy, and inspiring Aunt Euple-Leigh. She taught me how to command a room. She taught me how to make people smile. And most importantly she taught me how to tell a story.~_

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Molly came home to 221B late the next afternoon to find Sherlock passed out cold on the sofa (he wasn't letting her go back to her flat until this Anthea business was handled.) Odd, sleeping in the middle of the day? She made tea and settled in to think over the information she had just gathered. Frankly she felt awful. It was indeed necessary but her her moral compass felt suddenly cracked, possibly broken. She was lost in thought when she heard Sherlock stumbling around the flat.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" She asked jumping up from her seat.

"Nothing, just very tired," he said trying to himself a cup of tea.

"Give me that before you burn yourself. Why are you so 'tired' and... yep... you're lying. Remember, I can generally tell when you're lying now."

"I'm just warn out from working with Billy all day on a new drug to neutralize Anthea." Not a complete lie, he simply omitted several factors that might upset Molly.

She studied him for a moment, finally satisfied that he was telling her the truth and helped him sit back down on the sofa then went back to the kitchen to get their tea.

"Where have you been all day?" he asked changing the subject before she pressed further, as she handed him his tea and sat down.

Molly took a deep breath. "Went to visit my Aunt Euple. Well, she's not really my aunt but my mother's best friend." She looked down at her tea. "I haven't seen her in at least a year. I stopped visiting her because it was... just too hard." She paused. "She has Alzheimer's."

Sherlock put his arm around her. "And why did you go visit her today?"

"Because I needed to see if I could read someone with a compromised neurological system. I needed to test a theory." The last part was said in a smaller voice. "I told you I'd try to help Mycroft and I meant it. I just wish I didn't have to use my one and only aunt to accomplish it." She sat her tea on the table, put her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.

Sherlock put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. No, you shouldn't have had to do that. How was she?"

Molly didn't answer right away, she couldn't. Today had been horrible. Her experience with her once lovable, vibrant, quirky aunt had been both painful and enlightening. Then there was the fact that Sherlock had actually considered asking after the woman's well-being rather than any results she might have gleaned. Too much, once again... it was all too much.

She finally gathered herself enough to answer. "So much worse than the last time I saw her, but I expected that. What I didn't expect were the emotions. Yes, they were jumbled and confused but they were there. She feels. She's not without emotion. I guess I was hoping... hell I don't know what I was hoping for. God it was horrible." Molly was trembling and crying.

Sherlock picked her up and put her on his lap.

"I didn't want to do that Sherlock, but I didn't want to try to help Mycroft without any kind of plan. I'm flying blind here." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. "She's so scared Sherlock. I must have felt something the last time I visited her, but just chalked it up to my own feelings, it's probably why I hadn't been back. Most of the time I was there she felt scared and lonely and disorientated but then there was a moment, just a split second, when I was concentrating all of my effort on her... she looked right at me. I-I don't know, everything seemed to slow, and all I felt was joy. She smiled. It was her smile, the smile I remember. The smile she used to have when she'd be telling a story and getting to the good part or when she was just about to pull one over on my Uncle Elton. Not the one she was wearing when I came into her room... I don't know. It may have been a fluke, but it felt like I got through. Just for that one tiny moment." Molly broke down again.

Sherlock held her through her sobs, rocking her gently. Fifteen minutes passed. "Molly, you need to get some rest, today was exhausting for you."

"I know Sherlock, trust me, I know. But how was that possible? The more I think about it the more I believe it was me. For that split second the jumble and confusion was gone. It took a while for me to be willing to admit that I'm empathic, but how? How could I have done that?"

Sherlock thought for a moment, he didn't speak at first, just stared across the room. "Perhaps it's more about organizing emotions. Perhaps you just helped her focus on the correct feeling, the one she wanted to experience. You've told me when you read an individual that you organize their emotions, primary, secondary and so on... maybe that's how you helped her today."

Molly nodded. "Okay, maybe. I don't know... I guess we're both trying to figure this all out as we go. I'm gonna lay down for a bit." She got up. "You look like you could use some more sleep too, you know."

Sherlock smiled. "I'm fine, still a few plans to put together before tomorrow." He kissed her and sent her on way.

Two hours after Molly went into the bedroom her mobile rang. Sherlock picked it up out of curiosity. It was a number he didn't recognize.

"Hello."

"Hi, I'm looking for Molly Hooper."

"Okay, why, who is this?" he asked.

"Oh, well, um. This is Sarah, from the Summerdale Park Care Home. Her Aunt Euple is a resident here, Euple Greenhaugh."

"I'm aware, is everything okay? Is something wrong?"

"No sir, Mrs. Greenhaugh is fine. It's just, well, she's been asking for Molly for the last hour. And that's a bit well odd you see. She's hasn't been this coherent for more than a year now, and we just thought Miss Hooper might want to know and possibility come back and see her soon."

"Yes, I'm sure she will Sarah. Molly is sleeping right now. I'll make sure to tell her when she wakes up and I would expect a visit as soon as she's available. And... thank you for calling." Sherlock rang off and with a huge smile on his face.

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The next day found an empathic pathologist, a nurse (and former assassin,) a retired army doctor, a semi-homeless genius chemist, and the world's only consulting detective in a car in the exclusive neighborhood of Kensington, putting the finishing touches on their plan.

"So, are we clear? You three wait here. Billy, take care of the surveillance and the Watsons listen for Molly's signal."

Everyone nodded their respective heads.

"What Molly? I may not be empathic but I know you're concerned." Sherlock was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Watson's car turned around addressing everyone. Now he was only looking at his girlfriend.

"Are we sure this is going to work? The first drug failed," she said then went right back to biting her thumbnail.

"Yes. Now we are going..." Sherlock started.

"We tested it," Billy Wiggins said, who was sitting in between Molly and Mary and seemed to be in heaven.

"What do you mean you tested it?" Molly asked.

"Billy!" Sherlock warned.

"Billy?" Molly placed a hand on his arm and smiled sweetly.

The poor boy was torn. Torn between loyalty to his employer and the sweet doe eyes of Molly Hooper.

"How did you test it Billy?" Molly suddenly gasped. "Did Sherlock test it on you?"

"Oh no miss, no, Mr.'Olmes made me try it out on 'im. Took it a while to get the dose right."

Molly looked up at the detective who now looked like a schoolboy about to be grounded. She was ready to launch into a full blown assault when Mary Watson started in.

"John Hamish Watson! What's wrong with you? Why didn't you stop him?"

"How'd you know I was there?" John defended.

"Oh, you're always there! Holy hell, now there's three of them pulling this asinine shite!" Mary said.

"Right, so much intelligence... no common sense... I knew you were lying yesterday." Molly snipped.

"Okay everyone stop! We have much bigger things to deal with today! Molly I'm sorry I lied to you. Mary, John did try to stop us but I needed a medical professional there, just in case. And William... this will not go without..."

"Yes it will Sherlock, leave Billy alone! Don't ask him to lie for you, at least not to me!" Molly said then patted Billy on the knee as he preened next to her.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine! Let move, normally I like to keep Mycroft waiting but not this day."

Molly and Sherlock got out of the car and started down the street. They were two blocks from Mycroft's house, John would move the car closer after about ten minutes.

Sherlock took Molly's hand. "Are you really okay? He asked.

She nodded.

"It'll be fine. Let's just hope they're not in the same room when we arrive, although I doubt they spend a great deal of time together in that enormous house."

"I know, I feel better now that I know this stuff worked on you... You idiot!"

He laughed and put his arm around her shoulder.

"What's your code word if you get in trouble?" he asked.

Molly rolled her eyes. "If I get in trouble I have to call Anthea 'Adolf.' I thought I cut you off with the Nazi jokes."

They both giggled as they approached Mycroft's home although Molly could clearly feel Sherlock's worry for her and it didn't do much to quell her nerves.

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**_Thanks for reading._**


	17. Chapter 17

**_I own nothing... last unbetaed chapter... promise._**

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Mycroft answered the door much to Sherlock's relief. He had never known his brother to have agents or any other help employed at his private home, but with Anthea making seemingly most of his decisions lately Sherlock wasn't sure what to expect. They were ushered into his brother's study and offered drinks. Small talk ensued, it was excruciating. Finally Molly took her cue.

"Mycroft, is Anthea here? If I'm going to go forward with becoming a mother I'd really like to ask her a few questions." She managed not to sound nervous, shocking even herself.

"Of course, she's in her room I believe. Upstairs, third door on the left," Mycroft said.

Molly gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek and left the brothers hoping Anthea was not aware of her or Sherlock's presence as of yet. As she made her way up the stairs and down the long hallway, she realized that there was no way Sherlock would be able to hear her if something went wrong, she'd have to rely on the Watsons and they were several minutes away, on the other side of a locked front door.

She approached Anthea's door and knocked.

"Off the clock Mycroft. I'm resting, I do have the Holmes heir to think of you know." Anthea answered as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Molly opened the door and walked in. "Not Mycroft," she said.

Anthea stood up, she was wearing yoga pants and a long maternity shirt. Molly had a moment of doubt. She was convinced she'd find Anthea lounging without the artificial belly. Of course her door wasn't locked, maybe she wouldn't remove it until she was sure Mycroft was in bed. It was after, still early evening.

"What are you doing here Dr. Hooper?"

Molly steeled herself, _no, I know I'm right._ "Thought we'd have a little chat."

"Oh, and what exactly did you want to chat about?"

"How about the fact that you are not pregnant?"

Anthea swallowed and looked Molly up and down. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Cut the shit Anthea, I can't read your baby. There isn't one. Not only that but I bet I know exactly why you didn't want to carry it." Molly put her hands on her hips. "Want to hear my theory?"

The PA shifted her weight and folded her arms above her large belly. "Just because you're shagging genius doesn't mean you've suddenly become one dear... I can't wait to hear what you've come up with."

Molly kept her cool, she knew the woman was just trying to rile her up, "You didn't want to risk diminishing your ability. Couldn't risk losing the control over Mycroft and whomever else you're using to create your perfect world. It takes a lot of energy to make a baby Anthea, smart gal like yourself, you knew there was at least a chance you'd lose some or God forbid all of your carefully placed strings. Now, what I don't understand is why? Why not just say no or make Mycroft not want a child?"

Anthea shook her head then pulled the large shirt over her head reveling that she indeed was wearing a prosthetic belly. She tossed the shirt across the room and started unfastening the prosthesis. "You fucking fool!" she said as she continued removing the Velcro straps. "It's a Holmes heir! It was _my_ idea!" She was wearing a tank top under the suit, presumably to keep it from chaffing. "After all my hard work, and I don't have to tell you how hard it is Molly, I wanted something in return. But where as you've only just begun delving into others' minds, I've been doing this for years, and I will continue doing it until I've reached my goal. And no, before you ask... that goal isn't a role in government. I don't want to be Prime Minister, the bloody Pope, or ruler of the fucking universe. I do all of this for us, for Mycroft and Sherlock and every one of us, that includes you, even if you don't like it. And yes I wanted something out of it for myself. A child. A Holmes even. You're the crazy one for not jumping on the chance to get pregnant as soon as Sherlock finally realized he had a cock. What's wrong with you?" She had finally finished removing the cumbersome garment and tossed it on the floor near the end of the bed.

"Now, you clearly came in here with a goal in mind. If you'd like to attempt hand to hand combat with a trained agent be my guest. I might be a bit rusty, but even so I think I can handle a small pathologist with an inferiority complex."

"I have one more question before you kick my arse Anthea. What were you going to do next week? Didn't you think everyone would notice when no baby came out of your vagina?"

Anthea laughed. "Oh Molly, do you really think I don't have a plan? And better yet, do you think I'm going to give it all away to you?"

"I was just curious if you'd tell, we have your surrogate. We found her."

"LIAR!" The woman screamed.

"Would I have come today if we didn't already have her?" Molly shoved both hands in the pockets of her over-sized jumper checking the syringe. "Think Anthea, think about how Sherlock works. Would he let me come here if we didn't have leverage? You'll never see your baby."

"I'll **fucking** kill you!"

**_Meanwhile downstairs..._**

Sherlock sat across form his brother sipping his scotch. "Have you had anymore headaches?"

The elder Holmes narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine Sherlock. It was a headache, they are not uncommon."

Sherlock knew he had to cut to the chase. "Molly is an empath Mycroft."

His brother studied him for several moments before speaking. "We considered that that ability might manifest itself, though we haven't discovered one yet. There have been rumors that the Americans have one. They can't seem keep a secret." He took a breath, "You have deliberately kept this from me brother. I assume for her protection." He looked away for a moment. "I can't believe I didn't notice."

"You've been distracted, though that's not entirely your fault." Sherlock leaned forward. "Anthea has a similar ability, well same family but polar opposite as it turns out." He drew a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't have to do a lot of convincing. "She's been controlling your emotions Mycroft. She can influence your emotions and therefor your ability to make decisions."

Mycroft took in the information, his face didn't change. Finally he spoke. "You discovered this the day I experienced the headache in the lab and you and Molly have been working on a plan to deal with her ever since. I assume Molly is somehow unaffected and that is why you allowed your True One to go visit with the threat alone?"

Sherlock was very pleased to see that Mycroft's mind was still sharp enough to be able to make such rapid deductions. This had to be a good sign. "Yes, Anthea can not control Molly for what reason we don't know, however Molly conversely can't read Anthea either."

Mycroft nodded. "The plan? I don't want my child put in danger Sherlock."

"Molly believes, and I agree with her as she has not been wrong yet, that Anthea isn't carrying your child. Molly can read a child in utero, she reads nothing from Anthea. We believe she is hiding a surrogate. I will find her Mycroft I promise, I will find your child."

Just then Mycroft became very pale and tried to stand. Sherlock helped him up and walked him over to a leather sofa then laid him down. Suddenly there was a loud banging on the front door. Sherlock ran to answer it. John, Mary and Billy came running in.

"Molly said Anthea's hurt, where are they?" John asked.

Sherlock pointed up the stairs. "Third door on the left I assume, Mycroft is not well either."

"Mary see to Mycroft I'm going to check on Anthea. Billy with me." John barked, all at once becoming an army doctor again.

"Send Molly down, I need her help with Mycroft," Sherlock called after his friend.

Mycroft was completely out by the time Sherlock got back to the sofa. Mary was taking his blood pressure. Molly came running into the room several minutes later. Sherlock fished Mycroft's mobile out of his breast pocket and started thumbing through the contacts.

Mary immediately apprised Molly of Mycroft's condition. "His bp is slightly elevated and his heart rate is 118. His pupils are dilating normally."

"What happened up there?" Sherlock asked.

"I never got to administer the drug, we struggled, she came at me, tripped on her fake baby bump and slammed her head on an antique desk. It was awful. I checked her pulse, she's alive but other than that, I couldn't tell you. I'm worried about what that kind of trauma did to Mycroft if she was controlling him at the time, even if the control was minimal."

Molly knelt on the floor next to the unconscious man. Sherlock left the room having found the phone number he was looking for. Mary became very quiet. As expected Mycroft's mind was a bit messy, it was nothing like her aunt's, but there was some confusion. Molly concentrated everything she had onto Mycroft's mind and tried to help him make sense of what was happening. She felt pain, confusion, betrayal, anger, he was practically raging! She finally stopped, having no idea how long she had been trying to help put order to Mycroft's jumbled thoughts. She felt a hand on her back.

"Molly, the ambulance is here. Well I assume that's what it is, looks like one except it's all black. I didn't know they made black-ops ambulances," Mary said and Molly looked up.

"That was quick."

"It took Sherlock ten minutes to convince them who he was, and another ten for it to get here."

Molly shook herself, no wonder she felt so drained. "Right, okay." She stood up and several agents (not EMTs) came in pushing a stretcher followed by Sherlock, he took her by the arm.

"It took some persuasion but they're going to let you go with him. I have to stay here with Billy and try to find the surrogate. Try to help him, but don't over do it. You already look exhausted. I'll be there as soon as I can." He pulled her in and kissed her sweetly, "I love you."

"I love you too, find that baby!" She followed the stretcher out of the house.

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_**Thanks for reading, Lil**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Okay, I can't apologize enough for not updating sooner. But these next chapters were tough to write and it took me a while to get them where I wanted them. I mentioned this in the beginning, but I will reiterate... My Sherlock is OOC, he has changed since finding out that he is an Advanits, please keep that in mind. Thank you so much for sticking with me. The end is in sight. Much love... Lil**_

_**I have to thank MizJoely for her amazing beta work, if I hadn't made it all up, I'd think she was an Advantis.**_

_**I own nothing, well that's not entirely true... I suppose I do own my evolutionary advanced super-human idea.**_

* * *

Little William Henry Xavier Holmes, was born just hours after Sherlock located the woman, the surrogate, who had carried him for nine months. Her labour had started shortly after Sherlock, John and Billy stormed into the safe house where Anthea had been keeping her more or less hostage for the last couple of weeks.

Carol Ann Dawde looked well taken care of and in fine health. John immediately gave his professional assessment while Sherlock tried to convince the agents guarding her that they weren't a threat. Thankfully one of the agents had recognized Sherlock on sight and stopped the trio from being shot. Sherlock realised he could have planned the whole thing better, but his focus was a bit divided. He had to find the woman, carrying his unborn niece or nephew then get back to Molly and his brother. Time was of the essence.

He knew exactly what Anthea had done once he discovered the woman's name. Dawde, as in Randy Dawde, the supposed blogger who was trying to expose the Advantis program. Turned out he wasn't so much a blogger but a frightened husband looking for his wife. Mycroft, influenced by Anthea of course, had fed Sherlock a lie laced with just enough of the truth to keep him appeased. It had worked all too well since Sherlock's focus was on far too many other things at the time. The man was an unemployed low level bank worker. Anthea had, somehow found the couple and taken advantage of their financial situation, offering them a large sum of money to carry her child. She had influenced them when she could, but that could have only worked for so long. So she spirited the woman off to the safe house when she felt her plan start to unravel. Sherlock suspected that the husband had started asking too many questions or that the wife had shown concern about the secrecy of the matter. It could have been any number of things that had spooked the PA, at this point it didn't really matter. He deduced that she must have had Mr. Dawed _dealt_ with when he tried to contact Sherlock the second time.

Mrs. Dawde became distraught when she saw the famous _hat detective_ and demanded to see her husband (Sherlock suspected not for the first time.) John tired to calm her down but it was too late, her panic started the labour. The lab's ambulance was just a few minutes behind Sherlock and his friends. He still had Mycroft's phone and had contacted the Advantis facility on their way to the safe house, since he assumed he'd find a very pregnant and possibly hysterical woman when he got there. Once she was loaded and being safely transported to the facility Sherlock turned to his friends.

"That was good work Billy. You found the trail Anthea thought she covered and made this much easier. Ah, th-thank you."

"Course boss. Anythin' for the Misses and..." he mumbled the rest under his breath, but it was clear he was talking about Sherlock as well.

Sherlock turned to John. "So, I need to get you both home and get to the facility. Can I keep your car?"

The doctor nodded his head. "Absolutely, and we can see ourselves home."

"Thank you John, for everything."

John just smiled. "Sherlock, what happened to that woman's husband? She was screaming for him. Is he... should we contact him?"

"Unfortunately John, I believe Mr. Dawde is no longer with us. I assure you though, when I have assessed my brother's health and checked on Molly, I will find him or find out what happened to him."

As the three left the safe house Sherlock couldn't help but feel guilty for overlooking the importance of Randy Dawde. He had missed a vital clue and because of it a man had most likely lost his life. The distraction of his new relationship with Molly and trying to figure out who was controlling his brother, had taken his full attention. He knew it would be a while before he could get past feeling disappointed in himself. _Perhaps Molly's empathy was catching_, he thought.

* * *

Sherlock hurried down the hall of the secret government lab where he and Molly had both been through the Advantis testing, followed by two agents.

"Mr. Holmes, how do you even know where you're going?" agent number one asked.

Sherlock ignored the man.

"Mr. Holmes... Mr. Holmes please stop," agent number two called out.

Finally Sherlock stopped and turned on the men. "I'm looking for the medical rooms. This facility is equipped with twelve rooms, four of them considered critical care. They are at the end of this corridor. Now, tell me I'm wrong."

Both men just blinked.

Sherlock sighed then continued on his way. "Tedious."

Finally Sherlock found what he was looking for; the room that held his brother, his girlfriend and Mary Watson. He had sent Mary to the facility to watch over Molly and make sure she didn't push herself too hard.

Molly was slumped across Mycroft's body, sleeping. She looked worse than his brother, who at least, had some of his colour back. Mary was asleep in a chair on the other side of the room.

Sherlock rubbed his hand across Molly's back to try to wake her. As it turned out she wasn't asleep. She raised up slightly and slowly shook her head. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused. Sherlock stepped back, removing his hand. She put her head back down taking a deep breath. The room was completely silent except for the beeping machines and everyone's slow breaths.

Sherlock watch in awe as Molly kept her head on Mycroft's chest, one hand on his forehead the other on his wrist. After about six or seven minutes Molly started shaking, then Mycroft as well. Mary stirred awake and noticed the addition to the room. Sherlock moved forward to... well, do something though he didn't quite know what, but Mary intervened.

"No," she whispered. She took him by the arm and moved him farther away. "You can't. Don't touch them." Then she motioned for him to come into the hallway with her.

He was very reluctant to move, as a matter of fact he could hardly breathe. But finally he allowed her to guide him through the door. "What the hell is going on in there?" he asked, raking his hands through his hair.

Mary shook her head and took a deep breath. "I have no idea. It started about an hour after I got here. Molly was just holding his hand and she started shaking, then he was shaking and..." she trailed off looking, very disturbed. "It's happened so many times, I-I can't even count anymore. It's worse if she's touching his head." She had tears in her eyes. "I don't know if it's good or bad, I don't..."

Sherlock grabbed her and held her close for a few moments, then he pulled back. "I assume there have been doctors?" Sherlock asked inarticulately.

She nodded. "Yes, and they are baffled." She looked terrified. "I think she's helping him Sherlock, I do. I-I..." She sobbed. After a moment she was finally able to speak again. "I just don't know what it's costing her."

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this..._ He held Mary as she cried into his chest. She was exhausted, she needed to go home to her husband and child. "Mary, I sent John home. He and Lizzy are waiting for you." He looked at the agent standing to his left. "I believe this gentleman would be more than happy to escort you home, wouldn't you, number two?"

"Name's Smith," he said looking from a sobbing Mary to an almost pleading Sherlock. "I'd be happy to, this way ma'am." He extended an arm.

Mary kissed Sherlock's cheek then followed 'Agent Smith' down the hall.

Sherlock took a moment to think about the fact that he had never seen Mary Watson so shaken before. The woman was usually strength personified. He shook it off, took a deep breath and steadied himself before returning to the room. When he walked in he found that both Molly and Mycroft were relaxed and finished with whatever had overtaken them. Mycroft still seemed to be unresponsive but Molly slowly raised her head, looking over at her lover, though she didn't let go of Mycroft's wrist.

"Hey," she said in a whisper, though he didn't think it was for Mycroft's benefit. "You find that baby yet?"

Sherlock dropped to the floor beside her. "Yes. Molly, what's going on? You look like hell."

She attempted to smile, but barely managed. "You're rubbish at flattery, Holmes." Each word seemed to take far too much effort.

"You have to stop this, it's taking too much from you."

She slowly shook her head. "No, too close."

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm so close." Another deep breath. "I can feel... everything coming... together." She rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder though she still maintained her grip on his brother's wrist. "Please, love. I can do this... more time." She turned and pressed her lips to Sherlock's neck in what seemed to be an attempt at a kiss. "A little more time. I can't be... interrupted. Tell them."

He understood what she meant. He called out to the agent in the hallway; when he came in Sherlock explained what was about to happen, as best as he could, and that they couldn't be disturbed. The man nodded, looking slightly skeptical, then returned to his post.

Sherlock hadn't moved Molly during the exchange, allowing her this little bit of rest before she resumed her work. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her back. Her eyes were almost closed, she seemed like she was about to fall over. "Molly." He shook her lightly. "Molly, look at me." She opened her eyes. "Hey, tell me Molly..." He cupped her cheeks. "What do you need?"

Suddenly her eyes brightened and she smiled. One, two, then three, four and five tears escaped her eyes and she drew a deep breath and gave him such a huge smile he thought the intensity of it would burn right through him. "Oh God if this kills me, I will die the happiest woman on earth."

Sherlock shook his head in desperation, but Molly stilled him with her free hand. "You Sherlock, I just need you. Please, tell me you love me one more time."

"Don't do this Molly!" he said begging not only with his words but with his eyes and with his hands as they tightly gripped her arm and hip now.

"Ah, love. Can't you see I have to? It's my destiny. Now tell me you love me Sherlock Holmes, please." She stroked his cheek and jaw. "I can save him. But I need your strength. I need your love."

She nodded her head and Sherlock found himself nodding with her. "I love you Molly May," he sobbed the words out. "I love you so much, you are my world and I'd be lost without you."

His words seemed to fortify her, as she stood up on shaky legs drawing him up with her. She leaned into him and kissed him. "I love you too Sherlock Holmes." She put her free hand back on Mycroft's forehead. "Hold onto me, okay? Hold on and don't let go of me Sherlock. This could get rocky."

"Never, I'll never let go," he whispered as he wrapped an arm around Molly's stomach and one around her chest. He held on for dear life. He held on for his life, for his brother's but most of all for his Molly. She had to survive this. He didn't think he could go on in a world with no Molly Hooper in it, what would be the point?

Immediately both Molly and Mycroft started trembling and Sherlock right along with them. Molly's eyes were clenched shut, she seemed to be in agony. The trembling soon progressed into full blown convulsions as Molly and Sherlock both seemed to be clinging to something, though Sherlock couldn't have named it if he had a gun held to his head.

The convulsions only intensified and Sherlock's body started to ache, he couldn't imagine how painful this must have been for the tiny empath, as she was the one doing all of the actual work. At one point Molly called out in pain and Sherlock tried to wrench Mycroft's wrist out of Molly's grasp but she shook her head and yelled 'no.' He retreated to his original position and pressed his lips to the back of her neck trying anything to remind her that he was there and that he loved her.

Several more times Molly cried out in pain but he never again tried to make her release her hold on his brother. Somehow he had a feeling she'd never forgive him if he made her break the connection. He lost all track of time. She cried out over and over again as he held onto the woman he loved while she tried to mend his brother's broken mind. Tears soaked Molly's back and neck as he cried, silently begging for her to hold on and return to him.

With one more ragged cry Molly's body sagged, Mycroft's eyes opened wide and suddenly Sherlock was the only thing holding Molly's body off of the floor. He panicked. "Molly!" he screamed as he turned her over to see her eyes closed and mouth hanging open. "Molly Hooper, open your fucking eyes right fucking now!" He frantically looked around the room no idea with he was looking for. "Help me! Please help!" he screamed.

Agent number one ran into the room. "What's happening?" he yelled.

"A doctor, get a doctor or someone. NOW!" Sherlock laid her down on the cold floor and felt her carotid artery, desperate for a pulse. _Yes, there it is_. It was faint but present. He looked her over; she had almost no colour at all and although she was covered in sweat, her skin was cold.

Finally a doctor came rushing in followed by a pack of nurses.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I-I don't know sh-she was doing something with my brother-for my brother and then she collapsed." Sherlock suddenly remembered that Mycroft had opened his eyes and he looked at the man.

Mycroft Holmes lay with his eyes opened but with an expression of pure wonder in them. He was still silent but when he finally looked at his little brother Sherlock could have sworn that he could read what Mycroft was feeling, for just a moment... _fear, apprehension, adoration... awe_.

Just then a gurney was brought in for Molly and she was being lifted by several nurses and orderlies. The doctor started to follow them then turned back. "I'm going with Dr. Hooper. I'll send in someone to see to Mr. Holmes." He was almost to the door when he stopped and looked between both men then spoke again. "She's truly remarkable isn't she?"

* * *

_**Wow, I feel so much better having updated. I realize I left things a bit cliffy, but the good news is that the next two chapters are written. I will work on getting them ready to post. Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Hey, look at me updating so soon. Thanks for following this story, sorry again for the wait in between the updates.**_

_**Thank so much to MizJoely for her support and for betaing the chapter once again, she's an amazing writer and friend. **_

_**I own nothing, enjoy.**_

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Sherlock sat next to Molly's bed watching the rise and fall of her chest... counting breaths. Occasionally her eyelids would flutter. The selfish part of him hoped if she were dreaming, it was of him. Dreaming about experiments and adventures, about take-away and coffee, about passionate lovemaking and about promises of their future.

In the past few months of courting Molly, and then being in a relationship with her, Sherlock had become very accustomed to a few things, things that the average human would completely take for granted. He had become reliant upon regular meals. He first realised this about three weeks into his endeavor to better acquaint himself with his True One. He was actually shocked to find that digesting food didn't necessarily slow down his cognitive thought process. Although the fact that he was taking less and less cases might have skewed the results of that particular hypothesis. The resulting outcome remained the same nevertheless... he found he liked to eat, or at least he like to eat with Molly.

Another thing he had become accustomed to, was near constant human contact. Sure, he had that once with John Watson, but Molly had provided him with something else entirely. Sherlock had never really been a tactile person, not when it came to other people, at least. Crime scenes (when allowed) the occasional corpse (wearing gloves of course) and (when necessary) he would touch any piece of evidence put in front of him. However, other than a few fumbling attempts at university, then a couple of times when he was so high he couldn't really remember it and of course that one night in Karachi, the act of touching another human being held no real interest for him.

Then Molly happened.

As he watched her heart monitor he fondly remembered a lovely evening when they lay in bed simply touching each other, not attempting anything more until they had learned everything they could about each other's bodies. Her long brown locks tumbled across her shoulders as he traced her skin with his fingertips making her giggle and gasp in turn. She smiled and sighed as he reached her hip bone then drew his name across her skin from one side to the other. If she never woke, he'd vowed to himself and to her, that he'd never write his name on another person's skin. That honor only belonged to his Molly.

His body longed to crawl into her bed and wrap itself around her, though he didn't dare. She looked so tiny and breakable, like she might shatter at any moment.

It was the fourth day of his vigil and he hadn't really slept, or at least he told himself that he hadn't. But it seemed that that was another thing he had become far too used to. Sleeping next to his love. He knew he would drift off from time to time when he rested his head next to her on the bed, only to be startled awake thinking for a split second that it had all been some horrible nightmare. But it wasn't. There she was, thin and pale, tubes and machines attached everywhere... frighteningly motionless.

Lastly, it seemed that Sherlock Holmes had discovered his one true fear. And with it came tears, because he cried now. He cried all the time. He tried to be strong, he really did. But he was being torn in half. Being there was killing him but being away, he knew, would be so much worse because it would be admitting defeat. He refused to believe for one moment that Molly Hooper wasn't going to wake up and come back to him from wherever she was. He would watch over her and be there when she returned. She had saved him over and over again, then she had to go and save his arse of a brother. She was an angel and he wasn't leaving her side, ever.

So, Sherlock Holmes sat next to his True One, he ate when he had to, slept when he had to (though he pretended he didn't) he cried when he couldn't stop the tears, and he begged for her return to him. He knew he wasn't a good man and he didn't really deserve her, but damn it he needed her. John and Mary needed her, Barts needed her even Mycroft needed her. The bottom line was that the world needed Molly Hooper and she had to come back... she just had to.

He didn't even realise he had started crying again until he heard someone at the door. Sherlock didn't have to look up to know that the last person he ever wanted to witness one of his crying fits had just walked into the room. _Damn it..._

"Brother, why don't you go have a shower and some rest? I'll sit with Molly for the day," Mycroft said with a warm smile on his face.

Sherlock glanced at him. "I'll be staying."

Mycroft nodded and walked farther into the room. "I understand." He took the seat opposite from the younger man.

Sherlock looked down at Molly's tiny hand in his. "No, you don't."

"Perhaps I know more than you think, but... that's okay," Mycroft said then he smiled once again.

Sherlock really looked at his brother, trying to believe what he was seeing. Mycroft Holmes was leaning with his elbows on his knees staring at Molly with soft eyes, he seemed so... relaxed, so... kind. _Oh, they've given him drugs. _"Mycroft, what are you taking? How much pain medicine are you on?"

He laughed. "Oh, that's right. We haven't actually seen each other since I awoke. Well, there have been some... changes, brother dear. Something akin to side-effects from what Molly did for me. For lack of a better term, I've seen the light Sherlock," Mycroft said with watery eyes.

"What?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

"When Molly was... well reconstructing my brain, I suppose we could say, she went far deeper than reading my emotions." He looked away as if he were focusing on something in the distance. "She could, I believe, see my thoughts as well. I believe this because," he said then to looked back to his baby brother. "I could see hers. I could-I knew what she was thinking and of course, feeling." A tear fell down his cheek. "I've never seen anything like it Sherlock, it was... magnificent. She's well, she is something else, something beyond even us." He took out a handkerchief and cleaned his face. He then got up and slowly walked over to his brother, knelt down and held the back of Sherlock's head with both of his hands. "You must have faith, she has so much faith in you. Such unimaginable faith. She loves you... I-I didn't know that kind of love even existed. She will be back Sherlock. She has to come back to us, my son needs his aunt." Mycroft Holmes tilted Sherlock's head forward and kissed his little brother on top of his curly head, then he rose and left the room.

Sherlock didn't move for ten minutes. He may not have even blinked.

* * *

Two days, and several more _New Mycroft_ visits later Molly Hooper started to wake up. It wasn't like in the movies, she didn't suddenly open her eyes, or ask for Sherlock and a cup of coffee. She started moving her fingers, then she would lick her lips repeatedly, so much so that Sherlock started applying lip balm to keep them from becoming raw. Then the finger twitching stopped and she started mumbling incoherently. Sherlock tried desperately to understand what she was saying but couldn't make out much. Finally she started saying actual words.

He wrote them down to try to figure out what she was trying to tell him. Because he knew his brilliant Molly wasn't just randomly saying words. There was a message, and he would find it.

_Hole_

_Min_

_Sure_

_Burr_

_Lock_

_One_

After a while she seemed to be trying to put the words together.

_Hole one_

_Hell knee_

_Min Burr_

_Sure Lock_

_Oh,_ he thought, _that one should have been easy._ As he wrote it down it made him smile at his own sleep deprived mind. She was saying his name. _Oh yes, she's coming back to me. _He couldn't even be upset for missing the obvious, he was too happy to care.

He wrote his name down and looked at Molly's face. She had started making facial expressions as well. Small ones, little twitches of her lips and scrunching her nose, but it was another good sign.

Later that day John and Mary came by and he showed them the list, most importantly his name. They, of course, were ecstatic. John had brought Sherlock another change of clothes so he could have a quick shower in the bathroom attached to Molly's room.

When he got out Mary was writing on Sherlock's notes.

"Sherlock, she was saying 'hell knee' what's that mean?" Mary asked showing him the paper.

"I don't know," he said with a frustrated huff. "She says it all the time. Did she say my name before it?" He tossed the towel he was using to dry his hair across the room into the corner.

"Yeah, 'Sherlock, hell knee.'" Mary's eyes wandered around as she thought.

John spoke up, "Hell knee... help me? Could she be saying help me?"

Sherlock and Mary both looked at John in astonishment. "That's brilliant John," Sherlock said. "Sherlock, help me. But how? What do I do?" He ran to Molly's bedside. "Molly, what do I do love? How do I help you?"

"Sher-lock, hell knee," Molly mumbled once again.

Sherlock looked up at his best friends with desperation in his eyes. "Wh-what?" he asked.

They shook their heads.

"Hole on," she managed to get out.

"Wait, that usually sounds like 'hole one' this time it sounded like hole on... hole on?" He closed his eyes and tried to think about the day she fell, the day she saved his brother. He went through their conversation before she connected with Mycroft. It took him less than a minute to find the words... _"Hold onto me, okay? Hold on and don't let go of me Sherlock. This could get rocky."_

"I've got it!" he yelled across the room. "Stupid, I'm so bloody stupid. She told me what she needed before she started with Mycroft." Sherlock put the rail of the bed down and crawled in beside her careful of her tubes and wires. "She said 'hold onto me, hold on and don't let go.' She needs me to physically hold her. To bring her back. Damn it, I'm an idiot." Sherlock held onto Molly as tightly as he dared. He kissed her cheek and whisper her name over and over. He begged her to come back, he said he'd never leave her side. He said he was sorry that he had only held her hand, but that she looked too fragile and he didn't want to hurt her and that he hadn't understood what she was saying. He kissed her and whispered and kissed her some more until he fell asleep with his tear stained face against her shoulder.

John and Mary watched the exchange knowing that it was private and they should leave, but they couldn't. When Sherlock passed out from exhaustion Mary covered him with a spare blanket.

"We should leave," she said turning to her husband.

John had unshed tears in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah we..." He cleared his throat then turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

After about two hours of being cocooned in Sherlock's arms and scent and warmth. Molly Hooper woke up. She slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her True One snuggled into her chest sleeping soundly. Molly smiled but she let the man sleep. She was back, he finally understood what she'd been asking for. And when Sherlock Holmes woke up, she would tell him all the amazing things she had learned.

* * *

_Okay, please remember to review. Only a few more chapters to go. _

_What do we think Molly's become now?_

_Thanks for reading, Lil_


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you all for following this story and for showing an amazing amount of patience with me. I promise the end is nigh. Couple reminders: everyone is OOC! This is a complete AU! Honestly I only set out thinking I would have Sherlock off character, but everyone else sort of became their own people as well, it wasn't intentional.**

**Special thanks to my beta MizJoely for her help and encouragement. Also thank you all for the PM's asking me for updates. I don't mind them one bit, helps remind me that people DO expect some kind of ending... at some point!**

**I don't own the characters and whatnot but in this particular story... I own lots of other 'stuff'- Enjoy.**

* * *

**Been a while since I updated, sorry about that. Here's a bit of chapter 19 to get us started...  
**

_"I've got it!" he yelled across the room. "Stupid, I'm so bloody stupid. She told me what she needed before she started with Mycroft." Sherlock put the rail of the bed down and crawled in beside her careful of her tubes and wires. "She said 'hold onto me, hold on and don't let go.' She needs me to physically hold her. To bring her back. Damn it, I'm an idiot." Sherlock held onto Molly as tightly as he dared. He kissed her cheek and whisper her name over and over. He begged her to come back, he said he'd never leave her side. He said he was sorry that he had only held her hand, but that she looked too fragile and he didn't want to hurt her and that he hadn't understood what she was saying. He kissed her and whispered and kissed her some more until he fell asleep with his tear stained face against her shoulder._

_John and Mary watched the exchange knowing that it was private and they should leave, but they couldn't. When Sherlock passed out from exhaustion Mary covered him with a spare blanket._

_"We should leave," she said turning to her husband._

_John had unshed tears in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah we..." He cleared his throat then turned and walked out of the room. After about two hours of being cocooned in Sherlock's arms and scent and warmth. Molly Hooper woke up. She slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her True One snuggled into her chest sleeping soundly. Molly smiled but she let the man sleep. She was back, he finally understood what she'd been asking for. And when Sherlock Holmes woke up, she would tell him all the amazing things she had learned._

OoOoO

ch 20

Molly didn't dare move. She allowed Sherlock time to rest. She was well aware of the fact that the last six days had been harder on him than they had been on her. Feeling his pain, hearing his pleading words, had been excruciating, but she had needed his strength to fully regain hers. She couldn't completely understand it and if she were asked to explain it she wouldn't be able to, but Sherlock's physical presence had been critical to her. She had known this before she started the final trip into Mycroft's mind and she had known it while she was unconscious. Finally getting Sherlock to understand it had not been easy; her mouth wasn't cooperating with her mind, it had been incredibly frustrating.

* * *

Sherlock woke up less than a half an hour after Molly opened her eyes. Just like every time he woke up from a brief nap he thought, if only for a split second, that the events of the last six days had been some horrific nightmare. Then he remembered where he was as he slowly came back to himself and breathed in Molly's scent. Of course it was somewhat covered by the sterile smells of the hospital and the generic soap they had used to keep her clean, but there was no mistaking the scent of his True One. He allowed himself several seconds to revel in it.

That's when it happened.

"Hey, there's more to me than pheromones, you know." He heard from above his head.

He slowly moved back to get a look at her face, certain that he must be dreaming.

"You're not dreaming, I'm awake. Thanks to you," Molly said in a surprisingly clear voice for someone who had, for all intents and purposes, been comatose for six days. "I know, I sound better than I should." She shrugged. "Advantis, whatcha gonna do?"

Sherlock was completely speechless. She was acting so casual about it. He couldn't find any words... none.

"Sherlock, say something. I want to hear your voice," she said with a wide grin.

"I-I'm so sorry," was all he managed in his sleepy, shocked state.

Molly ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. "Oh, you silly man. You were working with almost nothing. I wasn't making any sense."

"You remember? You remember trying to tell me what you needed?"

"Oh yes. I was fully aware of what was going on around me, most of the time, I think." She seemed to struggle for a moment. "It's very... hard to explain."

Sherlock tried to get up out of the bed but Molly held on tight. "No-no. I've only had you for a couple of hours. You were so far away from me," she said as she traced his cheek bones, "and so close at the same time. Please don't go just yet."

"But the doctors, they- they will want to examine you. You need to..."

"Trust me when I tell you, they will have no idea how to deal with me." There was an odd twinkle in her eyes that Sherlock couldn't possibly name. "How's Mycroft? He's doing well with the residual effects, I assume?"

Sherlock shook off the strange feeling she'd left him with in order to answer her questions. "He's fine, he's up and walking around." She nodded as if she already knew that much. "He seems to be in fine form. Although I admit we haven't talked much about his health since his first visit. We mostly talk about you, and Henry, of course."

"I know, I heard. He named his son after my father," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "And, you."

Sherlock nodded.

"You've never even asked how he was feeling. I'd hoped there was something I was missing." She cocked her head to the side studying his face. "I suppose not."

"How could you have been awake, yet not? I- I don't understand."

"It's not uncommon for people in a comas to be able to hear what's going on around them." She paused, watching Sherlock closely. "However, I believe in my case, it was a bit different."

He eased back from her. "Different how?"

"It's complicated Sherlock."

He shook his head again. "Complicated?"

"I... I could hear-well sense, what was going on because of you-my connection to you. And then to Mycroft, when he was in the room. Once I realised Mary and John were here, I focused on them and I could sense them as well. Sherlock, Mycroft's been trying to explain this to you."

Yes, his brother had been sharing his experience with Sherlock since that first unsettling visit. Sherlock had only half listened to Mycroft. What did it matter? Molly wasn't well, she wasn't awake... she was locked somewhere in her own mind. He couldn't concentrate enough on what his brother was saying to really comprehend the idea that Molly had become _something else_. He was totally focused Molly and his own need for her.

"Mycroft says when that you two were connected he could read your thoughts. He says that he believes you could read his as well," he said as he steadied himself for her answer. "Is that true?" He suddenly felt apprehensive. He didn't even know what he was so afraid of. _Was a telepath really that different than an empath? _

"Yes, yes it is. They are very different, or at least it seems that way to me," Molly answered and watched him with wide, expectant eyes.

"Did I do that thing where I think something in my head and don't mean to say it out loud, but I say it out loud anyway?"

Molly shook her hear. "No love. And you tend to do the opposite. You assume you've informed us of something, when really you've only said it in your head. Very different."

"You read my mind, Molly."

"Yes, Mycroft's been telling you about this for a couple of days, if I have my timing right. And I've actually answered several questions that you only thought about, not spoken out loud, since you woke up. You just didn't notice. Something's happened Sherlock. I have theories, of course, but that's all they are... theories."

Finally Sherlock did get up from the bed and start pacing the room. Molly seemed to deflate a bit, and he realised he was the cause of it. "No, it's not... I'm just... This has been..." He raked his hands through his hair.

"I know Sherlock. You're scared. It's a lot to take in. But I actually have to concentrate to read thoughts, just like before... with emotions. It seems, though I've only been doing it for a short time, to be quite difficult." She picked at her blanket. "I know that this might change things... I know how private you are," she said looking down at her lap. "I would never..."

Sherlock was back in bed before she could finish her sentence. "You're a rubbish telepath Molly Hooper if you think for one minute that this changes how I feel about you." He kissed her jaw and neck and cheek. "That being said, keep your mind to yourself unless you want to spend most of your day flushed red from head to toe."

She sobbed and laughed at the same time as he kissed her over and over.

They stayed like that for several minutes until Molly asked for some water. Sherlock cursed himself for not considering that she'd be thirsty. He handed her a glass of water and sat back down at her bedside.

"Okay, you want to know what happened," she said, putting the cup on her table.

"That is really unnerving."

"You've been doing it for years, Sherlock. Now you know how _we_ feel."

"Do you know how you went from being able to read emotions to... this?" he asked somewhat ineffectually.

Molly gathered herself for a moment; she had theories, but nothing more. "Okay, here goes. Suppose I was always... _this?_" She motioned to herself. "I think that I always had the potential to read thoughts, but my experience with Mycroft pushed me forward, for lack of a better explanation. When I was, well in his mind, I was concentrating on repairing all the damage. But I could also communicate with him. I didn't realise I was doing it at first. Then it became imperative that he work with me, show me where I needed to go." She took a deep breath. "You have to understand, this is very difficult to explain." She bit her lip and thought for a moment. "So the major damage was obvious, but there were subtle things as well, hidden things that I needed his help with." She took another drink of water. "He was able to guide me in a way, until..."

"Until he woke up and you..." He closed his eyes, remembering her lifeless body on the floor of Mycroft's room. "Didn't?"

"That, I believe, was the last piece of the puzzle coming together. It took the very last of my strength to find it. To fit it into place, so to speak. He was fighting it, understandably so. It's something painful and dark. Something that Anthea's twisted mind made Mycroft do. It's personal Sherlock. He needs to tell you, when he's ready." She reached for his hand, and held it tightly. "Give him time."

* * *

Less than thirty minutes later the pair was met with a cadre of doctors and nurses. They began fussing about Molly, asking questions and drawing blood. Mycroft Holmes showed up five minutes into the assault and dispatched them all. Once the room was cleared he approached the woman who saved his life.

"Molly," he said smiling in a way Sherlock had never seen before. "How are you feeling my dear?" He sat himself on the edge of her bed and took her hand.

"I'm well Mycroft. When do I get to see Henry?"

"I can arrange for a visit at any time. He's perfect Molly, absolutely stunning." The man was beaming.

Molly reached up and stroked Mycroft's cheek and he closed his eyes. That's when Sherlock realised his brother was crying and so was Molly. He suddenly felt like an intruder in this moment between two people who had had no more than a handful of conversations in their lives and none of them remotely meaningful. He didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Finally they broke apart and Mycroft cleaned his face. "Well, that's all good to know," Molly said as if they were finishing a conversation.

Mycroft nodded and stood up by her bed straightening his suit, not looking the least bit ashamed for his emotional moment with his brother's girlfriend.

"Where's Anthea?" She was looking between Mycroft and Sherlock.

Sherlock hadn't given the woman more than a passing consideration since he had arrived at the facility but he saw Mycroft's expression darken. "Yes, brother what happened to her?"

Mycroft drew a deep breath. "She's in a medically induced coma."

Molly shook her head angrily. Sherlock frankly didn't know how he felt. This woman was a lunatic and quite possibly a murder. _Oh... Mr. Dawde. _

Mycroft had either become telepathic as well or he was completely recovered from his ordeal, because he turned to his brother. "We've located Randy Dawde, by the way. His body at least."

"I deduced as much," Sherlock said calmly, though the reality of it was causing him more than just discomfort.

Molly suddenly looked at her boyfriend. "Sherlock, it's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped it. You... we didn't have any idea what was going on back then. You can't possibly blame yourself for this." She jerked her head to Mycroft. "Oh, for the love of... you too?" She threw her hands in air in frustration. "Listen to me, the both of you, and don't make me repeat myself. None of the blame for this situation can put on either of you, do you two understand me? She manipulated and controlled people. She destroyed lives. Mr. Dawde isn't the first life she has taken." Molly's eyes came to rest on Mycroft's with the last sentence. She then returned to her general proclamations. "I won't allow either of you to go on feeling such... _oppressive guilt._" She rubbed at her temples and Sherlock moved back to her side. "I'm fine Sherlock! Trying to read the both of you is just bit tiring," she snapped then she took a deep breath and studied the brothers for a moment. "I know this will take some getting used to. You're both feeling things differently than you ever have before. I imagine at least in part, because of our shared experience." There was a hard edge to her voice that hadn't been present before.

The men exchanged worried looks.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I'm confident that I can control this with more practice. It's all so new right now. In the meantime stop comparing my current state to extreme PMS, Sherlock."

Mycroft laughed at his little brother's discomfort.

"I'm screwed," Sherlock muttered under his breath.

* * *

_Yeah, Sherlock... soooo screwed! So tell me what you think. I always love hearing from you and I need to finish up, so drop me a line. Also come play with me on tumblr (same name.)_

_I'm seriously contemplating starting another Evolution story after this one... I have to admit, it has been my favorite story so far (most likely why I can't seem to finish it) thoughts? Ideas? _

_Thanks for reading!  
Lil_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Well, I took my sweet time with this update, didn't I? I'm so sorry about that. I had something very specific in mind for this chapter and it took me a while to get there. Good news! The final chapter is written, I just have to finish my edits and send it to my beta. Thank you all for sticking it out with this story. I have the next story of this little AU all planned out and I'm ready to start writing! **_

_**This chapter contains smut... a lot of smut but also quite a bit of plot. You've been warned. : )**_

_**I owe a HUGE thank you to MizJoely for being an amazing beta and wonderful friend. Also thanks go to MrsMcrieff who answers my Brit questions without judgement or accusing me of being an ignorant American (to my face... LOL.) If you find any mistakes though, they're all mine!  
**_

_**I own nothing here except my little Advantis world, I suppose! (I giggle every time I type that!) Please enjoy! ~Lil~**_

* * *

Molly was released two days later, though she complained about her stay almost the entire time. She seemed to be suffering no ill effects from her experience with Mycroft or the coma, but both Sherlock and Mycroft insisted she stay and let the doctors keep an eye on her. In the end they could find no reason to keep her any longer. She knew this, of course, but the brothers were being overly cautious. Not that she didn't appreciate it, she just didn't want to be in the secret medical facility any longer than necessary.

Mycroft had assured her that her abilities – though he frequently referred to them as gifts – would be kept secret, but she still felt uneasy about it all. She trusted the man, she did, but she didn't trust the people he worked for. The only thing that would ease her nerves would be to get back to her normal life. Back to autopsies and her lab. Back to her cat and her books. Back to Sherlock's bed and...

It would have been excruciating had it not been for Henry. Just as promised, Mycroft brought his newborn son in to meet his Aunt Molly two hours after she had woken up. The moment William Henry Xavier Holmes was placed in her arms, she was smitten. Molly had held babies before, but she had never had such a visceral reaction to a child before in her life. Her first thought was that it was her new ability, but she quickly dismissed it. She wasn't attempting to read anything from the darling boy, she was simply observing him. Mycroft was right; he was perfect. Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes. His eyes were still an intense shade of blue, which they would most likely stay. His head was covered in a beautiful patch of straight, black hair. _Perfect._

Molly fed him while his _Papa_, Mycroft had informed her that he was to be called, chatted (and argued) with Uncle Sherlock. She was mesmerized. He was a wonderful little thing. A proper British gentlemen, even as a newborn. She suddenly pictured him in a tiny three piece suit and burst out laughing, causing the brothers to look up. She apologized and asked if Sherlock was ready for his turn.

If she thought that holding Henry had sent her maternal instincts into over drive, the sight of her gorgeous man with that tiny little fussing bundle in his arms just about caused her ovaries to expel themselves out of her body and across the room. She made this sort of whimper and once again both men looked up at her. Once again she apologized then excused herself to the en suite.

That's when she realised she needed to get a hold of herself. The events of the last week had been intense, even if she had been comatose for most of them. Her mind had a lot to adjust to and she needed give herself time.

When she reentered her room Mycroft was gathering Henry up to leave since it was his nap time. She got to visit with her father's namesake twice more before she was finally released, falling in love a little more each time. Now she was finally going home. _Home?_ For the first time it occurred to her that she had been staying with Sherlock out of necessity and that she could actually return to her tiny flat.

* * *

They were in the back of a luxurious government car when she realised they weren't on their way to the dodgy part of Camden, but rather nearly to Baker Street.

"Sherlock, are we picking up Toby first?" she asked.

He just smiled and kissed her forehead.

Molly rolled her eyes. While in the facility, they had talked openly and frankly about her ability and what it meant in their relationship. She had promised not to attempt to read Sherlock unless it was an emergency – loss of consciousness, hostage situations, or an evening at the theater with his parents had made the cut – this was decidedly _not_ one of those moments. She considered that it was possible he was trying to surprise her, perhaps a party (though that didn't seem like a very 'Sherlock' thing to do.) Or maybe he was just being his normal presumptuous self, assuming she'd want to stay at Baker Street for the night. She put her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the ride.

As they made their way up the seventeen stairs of 221B Baker Street, it dawned on her that she felt like she was coming home. The few short weeks she had spent in Sherlock's flat she had come to feel a sort of kinship with the odd disorganization of its strange layout and utter lack of pretense. She loved the bullet holes in the walls. She love the fact that science equipment could be found in literally every room. She love the mismatched furniture... furniture they had debauched in many, many different ways, but not as many as they could. Her mind was wandering and her cheeks were heating up. As Sherlock opened the door to the flat she was relieved to find it devoid of family and friends, because suddenly...

Molly threw her bag, well... somewhere, and turned, simultaneously pushing Sherlock up against the closed door. He let out a muffled _oomph_, as she pulled his head down and attacked his mouth. Sherlock responded with equal desperation; both the potted plant from the Watsons and Molly's overnight bag went flying as he dropped them to fall where they would as his hands attached themselves to her ass. He lifted her up that she could wrap her legs around his back, both her shoes dropping on the floor behind him. She was aware that she'd gone from zero to sixty in about eight seconds, but she simply didn't care. She had almost died and she wanted to make love to this man... NOW!

o0o

"Are you feeling..." he started to ask, pulling his mouth away for only a moment before reattaching it to her neck.

"I'm fine, more than fine actually. I need you Sherlock. Please, it's been so long." Molly tugged at his hair to bring his lips once again in line with hers and drove her tongue into his mouth.

Sherlock growled as he tried to take control of the kiss and blindly steer them towards the settee, bumping into the coffee table in the process. He was already half hard and they'd only been kissing for 37 seconds. Molly was an absolute delight when it came to sex, but this was completely different. She was on fire, and incidentally so was he. He managed to maneuver them safely to the settee and finally pry her hands off of his neck. She lay almost perfectly still for a few seconds as he shucked his suit jacket. He paused for a moment; looking at her, he thought could almost see an idea forming in her mind. He dismissed it and started unbuttoning his shirt when suddenly Molly jumped up and planted her knees on the cushions.

"Let me help, it'll be faster," she said as her nimble fingers joined his in removing his dress shirt. Her eyes were dark with lust as she concentrated on the buttons.

Sherlock tried to take a deep breath and calm himself as he watched Molly look at his chest as if she had intended to devour him. Seconds later he realized how correct his deduction had been as Molly slowly (her first slow movements since kissing him) raked her hands down his chest, stopping to graze his nipples with her thumbs. Then she lowered her head and started kissing and licking, biting and sucking every inch of exposed skin she could find. Sherlock buried his hands in Molly's hair to anchor himself as she worked his flesh, turning him into a stammering mess. When he felt her hands on the front of his trousers, cupping his erection, he groaned and bucked forward. Molly suddenly moved so that she was seated and started undoing the fastenings beneath her tiny hands.

"God Sherlock, I always want you, always. But right now, I _need_ you... In. My. Mouth." By the time the devil woman was finished with her declaration she had him out and was stroking his now rock-hard member, looking up at him through her eyelashes with a dangerous grin on her face.

"Fuuuck," Sherlock whispered, watching as Molly wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked it into her mouth. Where this new-found aggressiveness had come from he had no idea, but he wasn't about to question it. Molly was certainly not meek or subdued in the bedroom, but this- this was a different thing entirely. She had one hand tightly holding onto his arse cheek and the other gently tugging on his bollocks as her sweet mouth sucked his cock. "Molly," he sighed her name as he tugged on her hair, trying to alert her to the inevitable outcome, should she continue. She simply hummed, causing him to buck forward into her lovely mouth. She seemed undaunted. After a few more moments of this beautiful torture, she pulled away, stroking him with her small but capable hand, the other never stopping its work below on his balls.

"We haven't, I know, but I want you to," she said, then she licked the tip of his penis while smiling sweetly.

The unspoken implication, of course, only caused Sherlock's blood to boil. He closed his eyes and let his head fall backwards as Molly took him in her mouth once again, this time concentrating on the head, doing something sinful with her tongue, while fitting her hand around his shaft. She expertly twisted her hand one way as she rotated her head the opposite direction. The effect was so mindbogglingly pleasant, he was sure his eyes would never return to their proper place in their sockets. But they did. Because after a few moments of _that_ little trick, he felt Molly's hand let go and suddenly he was being taken down her throat in a manner he would have not thought possible. He looked down to see her eyes closed tight in concentration and he was lost... he grunted then moaned something akin to her name and a proclamation to a god he didn't believe in, as he poured his seed down her throat.

o0o

Okay so she had cheated. And the worst part was she didn't even feel bad about it. She tried to rationalize it by telling herself it was for his pleasure and nothing more. But God did it feel good. She knew she would not be able to concentrate on reading him while they were actually making love- too much information, too many emotions and frankly she was usually too concerned with her own enjoyment to fully concentrate on his emotions or now thoughts, as it were. But oh, wasn't that lovely. Reading him as he had come in her mouth was like experiencing it with him, and it was completely different than an actual orgasm. The explosion of pleasure and joy and adoration, it was very nearly painful. It was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. Molly didn't exactly feel sated or fulfilled, more like... heightened and exhilarated.

She leaned back as Sherlock sat down next to her. He looked completely shagged out and exhausted. "God Molly. If I were a different man, I'd ask you where you learned to do that. But I'm not, so I won't. I'll just be thankful that you did. Seriously, don't ever tell me," he said, his voice even more husky than normal.

She looked over his gorgeous, near naked form, and smiled. "Um, love. Your trousers and pants are still bunched around your ankles. Ah, you're still wearing your shoes." She giggled.

He opened his eyes glancing down at his clothes then over to her. "Yes, well I see a much bigger problem here."

"Oh, and what is that?" she asked knowing full well what he was talking about.

"You're still fully dressed Molly Hooper. Now, why is that?" he asked as he pulled off one of his shoes and then the other.

"I was focused on you, Mr. Holmes, in case you didn't notice."

"Oh," he said with a deep chuckle as he kicked off the rest of his clothes. "I noticed. I also noticed that you've never done _that_ before."

Molly knew she was caught, but she wasn't giving up without a fight. "Of course I have."

Sherlock gave her his _don't give me that shit, Molly look_. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. If you wanted a chance to read me during intercourse, you could have simply asked. You didn't have to trick me."

Molly wanted to feel affronted, though she was also a bit embarrassed. "It wasn't a trick, Sherlock. More... a sudden inspiration. I- I can't do it while I'm... if you're..."

"It makes perfect sense. You can't read me while I'm fucking you."

Molly huffed. "Crude."

"But accurate."

"Where's Toby?" she asked using her beloved pet as an opportunity to change the subject since she had just immediately broken their agreement about using her gifts unnecessarily.

Sherlock reached over and started unbuttoning her blouse. "Mrs. Hudson's."

"And where is Mrs. Hudson? I would have assumed she'd have been up here fussing about, pouring tea down my throat."

Sherlock smirked and Molly didn't need to read his mind to know that he was thinking something very naughty at that very moment. "Don't be crass," she said as she helped him remove her bra.

"I was simply going to say that I sent our dear landlady a text explaining that you would be needing your rest."

Molly couldn't care less about landladies or cats after that because Sherlock descended upon her, pushing her into a reclining position and trapping her underneath him as he kissed her breathless. That glorious tongue of his instantly refueled the fire that their short conversation had barely dampened. "Again? Are you ready?" she asked between kisses.

"Hmmm, I will be by the time I'm finished," he said with a smirk, moving his head to suck and bite behind her ear and down her neck. "I love the way you smell, Molly, right here. And I love the way you taste." He took her flesh between his teeth and worked it, hard.

He could be such a caveman. She'd never worn a neck scarf in her life before she'd started dating Sherlock Holmes; now it was a necessity. And she loved it. He was right, of course, when he had deduced that she liked things a bit rough at times. He could read her like a book though and never took things too far.

Molly was gasping, clawing at his bare back. She thrust up, still wearing her trousers, yet hoping for some relief. She'd been worked up since they'd walked through the door, she needed release. "Please Sherlock."

"I do believe if I touched your nethers right now Molly, you'd go off like a bomb," he whispered in her ear.

Molly giggled then moaned as he moved his mouth down to her already hardened nipple, taking the other in hand as he suckled and nipped it with his teeth. He switched sides but not before grazing the underside with his tongue, lavishing that breast with just as much attention. _So precise,_ she thought.

It wasn't always like this. Sometimes it was quick and rough, which Molly loved. But she could tell that Sherlock's intentions were to take his time with her, and she loved that too. She didn't even think it was a need to recover, since... yep, she could feel his half hard member pressing against her hip. He didn't _need_ to take his time, but he was going to.

He moved to kneel on the floor as he started slowly undoing her trousers. "Molly, I want you to try to read me." He looked up at her, conveying with his thoughts that she could trust him and he knew she could do this. "Concentrate on my thoughts while I do this. I think it will not only heighten the experience, but also prolong your pleasure." He had removed her trousers by this point and was gently rubbing her through her pants.

"Oh God," she said. "I- I don't know, Sh-Sherlock."

He moved back up her body palming her breasts in both hands. "Trust me Molly May. You can do this, and it will be magnificent." He kissed her as he pinched both nipples at once. Releasing her mouth he worked his way back down her body, placing open mouth kisses on her perfect, unblemished skin. He wanted nothing more than to drive his lovely girl completely mad with desire before finally taking what he wanted, what they both needed. He knew she had experienced his orgasm with him just moments before; now he wanted her to experience what it was like for _him_ to give _her_ pleasure.

He hooked his thumbs under her knickers and tugged them down, throwing them behind them. "Listen to my thoughts Molly," he said as he spread her, placing one foot on the floor and bending her other leg just enough to put her at his mercy. He gently rubbed his thumb over her clit. "Are you doing it?"

Molly nodded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Share with the class," he said in a mocking voice.

"You bastard."

"Tell me what I'm thinking," he said as his thumb moved in small circles.

Molly closed her eyes, he could tell she was concentrating. "Ahh, you love... ahhh, oh God you love my pussy. You love how, mmm, wet I am. You, want to... oh God, Sherlock, I don't think I can come that many times."

He chuckled. "We'll see about that, keep going."

Molly laughed. "Oh, you are so fucking dirty!"

"You're one to talk, Miss Hooper!" he said just before lowering his head and drawing his tongue from her arsehole to her clit. Molly squealed and bucked. "I didn't say you could stop."

"Sherlock, it's too much. I can't!" She was gripping the back of the settee with one hand and the other was flung up over her head.

"Just concentrate on my thoughts Molly, I'll try to keep them reined in." _Try,_ he thought.

Molly was quiet for a moment as Sherlock started gently licking her labia minora, teasing her, trying to let her get used to reading him as she enjoyed herself. "Um, you are thinking about how I taste. You... love it. Really?"

"Of course I do Molly, don't be obtuse."

"I just thought that was something men... said, but didn't actually mean. Okay, um, oh my you... really love it. Oh, Sherlock." Then she giggled. "I don't think drinking straws should be applied to oral sex!"

He raised up. "If only, continue."

She looked down. "You continue."

He put his hands under her bum and angled her up then dipped his tongue into her opening. He heard her moan above him.

"Ohhh, you... you love fucking me with your tongue. I love it to, by the way."

"Mmmm," he hummed, his mouth too busy to respond.

"Please let me come, Sherlock, please!" she begged.

He almost gave in, but he _did_ love hearing her beg. Hearing her plead for release made his cock hard and his chest swell with pride. _He_ made her wet and needy, _he_ made her moan and beg for more. She was his and he would see how far he could push her before...

"Oh your mind is fucking filthy... and I fucking love it! Yes, I'm yours!" Molly practically screamed, pulling him from his thoughts and back to his task. "Touch me, please!"

Sherlock lowered his head once more and sucked her clit into his mouth while pushing two fingers into her soaking channel. Molly wailed and bucked but he held her down with his other hand.

"Oh, I'm gonna..." she started then stopped when Sherlock released the bundle of nerves and moved lower. He started licking puckered hole, never removing his fingers, but careful to avoid the spot inside her that would send her over the edge. "Oh, you're a bad man... God that feels good."

Sherlock looked up again. "My thoughts Molly!" he demanded as he withdrew his fingers.

"Oh no, I... I..."

Sherlock let his mind wander free as he let her see what he loved most about his True One. Her small but firm breasts. Her velvety smooth skin. Her silky hair and the way it slipped through his fingers. The way her lips fit perfectly in his. The sounds she made when he touched her and licked her. The way her cunt felt when it shuddered around his cock. The way they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle that was always meant to be. He watched as she read his mind and her eyes went wide with the realisation of how utterly perfect he thought she was. It looked as if all the breath had been knocked out of her for a moment as they just stared at each other.

Sherlock slowly lowered his head one more time. He licked her entire sex before concentrating on her clit, he told her with his mind to _just let go, my love, just let go. _And so she did. And for just a moment he felt... something. Later, when he was dissecting and storing the experience in his mind palace he realised that somehow, he had felt... _her_\- what she was experiencing. It was brief, it was fleeting but it happened and it nearly took his breath away. He was rewarded with a new gush of fluids and Molly's hands gripping his hair tightly as she called out to him over and over. She thanked him and praised him and told him she loved him as she slowly came back to earth.

* * *

Sherlock stood up and bent down, clearly intent on scooping her up into his arms, but Molly was having none of it. What she had just experienced had been lovely- no, mind-blowing- but she needed more. She shook her head. "Here, now, I can't wait."

"The bedroom's just a short walk, Molly. Surely..."

"No!" She pulled him down on top of her. He managed to brace himself on the back of the settee and the armrest with his knees between her legs. "Please!" she begged as reached between her legs coating her hand with her own juices then wrapping it around his prick, stroking it while looking at him wide eyed and panting.

Sherlock stared down at the woman below him; she was absolutely stunning like this. And she was doing such lovely things to his cock. He didn't hesitate a moment longer; he batted her hand away and lined himself up and slid into her, causing them both moan in unison. _Oh God, this feels different_, he thought. And then he couldn't think anymore because Molly was digging her nails into his arse cheeks, thrusting upwards, begging for more.

Molly couldn't believe how amazing Sherlock's cock felt. He always made her feel full and oh so good, but this was different, for some reason. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she wanted more. So she told him. Every pump, drove Molly closer to the edge and she felt her orgasm starting to build. Her eyes were closed tightly so she wasn't expecting Sherlock's teeth to suddenly bit down on her nipple causing her to orgasm immediately and so hard she felt like she was coming apart. She was so taken aback by the intensity of it she barely made a sound.

"Ahhhh, fuuuck Molly!" Sherlock more moaned than spoke actual words as he came, hands fisted in Molly's hair. Her walls were practically vibrating around him in aftershocks as he came harder and longer than he could ever remember having done before.

He collapsed on top of her, her hands now lightly resting on his bum. "That, was... very... different," he said taking a breath in between each word.

"Mmhmm," Molly hummed in response. A satisfied smile played on her lips.

"_Yoo-Hoo!_" They heard the distant call of the intrusive Baker Street Landlady.

"I knew she couldn't stay away," Sherlock said as Molly stood up and scampered off to the bathroom on legs made of jelly.

* * *

_**Alright folks, one more to go. It would be a HUGE help to me if you would let me know what you think about this chapter. Theories? Comments? I love hearing from each and every one of you! Come and visit me on tumblr, same name. Thanks for reading. ~Lil~**_


	22. Chapter 22

**_So, this is the final chapter. I will probably be crying all day. So many thank yous... far too many, frankly. First off MizJoely... Such an amazing friend and beta, always there to fix my grammar and be incredibly supportive. Secondly, MrsMcrieff... my hetro-life-mate and the best cheerleader I could ask for. And lastly thank you all for favoriting, following and reviewing this story. I love you all._**

**_I have every intention of following this up. _**

**_I own nothing (well, I do own the Advantis... they are all mine! ; )_**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

The next morning Molly woke up to the feeling she was being watched. Not entirely unusual. During the eight weeks of stalking she endured before they had started dating, Molly had woken up from several naps to find Sherlock seated in her lounge, _staring at her_. At the time it was somewhat creepy, now when he did it was quite adorable.

She slowly opened her eyes to find a somber consulting detective looking down at her. "Morning," she said.

"You almost died," he stated bluntly, almost emotionless. Although he looked terrified.

_Oh,_ she thought. _We're doing this now, before coffee?_ They had completely avoided the topic of mortality while she was recovering. Both seemingly happy to be near each other, not wanting to touch the subject. But now in the crisp morning of their first full day back to normality, it seemed that Sherlock could stand it no longer.

"Something like that," Molly said, trying to gauge the situation.

"No. Not something like that. You almost died saving my brother. You knew the risk, I know you did- you said as much and yet you still did it. You've saved me over and over again, Molly and now Mycroft. How do I even begin to repay you for what you've done?" He drew a deep breath as he touched her face with slightly trembling hands. "I feel wholly inadequate, and yet..." He paused as he struggled for his words. "All I have to give you is love. I want to give you more- you deserve more." He knew he wasn't making any sense, but the forty-six minutes he had spent watching Molly sleep had overwhelmed him. He finally allowed himself to think about everything for the first time since she'd awoken from the coma, and he simply couldn't express himself properly.

Molly reached up and pulled his head down to her chest, frankly unable to look into those sorrowful eyes any longer. She stroked his hair while she spoke. "Listen to me, I will _always_ save you Sherlock Holmes, because you are mine to save. I won't apologize for it. Or for saving Mycroft. I love you _and_ your stuffy big brother. And as far as giving me more, I have everything I've ever wanted right here in this bed. Though if you'd like to talk of repayment, a cup of coffee wouldn't go amiss."

He raised his head. "Please don't ever leave me Molly. I think it would break me. Actually, I know it would."

Clearly Molly's small attempt at levity hadn't worked. Sherlock's words echoed in her head as she looked at the beautiful man. He was in pain, pain she had caused while trying to help him. Learning this kind of love, feeling it so deeply must have been staggeringly foreign to him, even if he had tried to ready himself for their relationship. The concept of losing something just found... it must have been devastating. She knew his mind worked very differently than her own. His obsessive nature would drive him mad if he didn't have things to focus on, and now one of those things was her. She thought about all the times she'd nearly lost him. At the time her feelings were only one-sided; if she lost him now... she swallowed hard. He needed her to be strong and reassuring, not emotional.

"Oh, Sherlock." She cupped his face in her hands. "I'm not going anywhere, love."

Sherlock nodded, then lowered his head. His lips met hers with an intensity that somehow surpassed the previous day's kisses by a hundredfold. He seemed to be trying to imprint himself upon her. He pressed her into the mattress whispering her name over and over again between each kiss.

* * *

Mycroft walked into 221B to find his brother sitting in his chair, sipping tea and reading a newspaper. The flat was neatly tidied up and pleasant smelling. Molly's cat was sleeping on the settee. He also heard the shower running and knew that the Molly would be joining them shortly. _Only home a day and it seems as though she's has been a busy little bee, _Mycroft thought. He couldn't help but smile even though his mood was dark. "Afternoon, Sherlock, I see Molly's feeling well."

Sherlock set the paper aside as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, she insists that cleaning calms her nerves. She's been doing it almost constantly. Tea?" he asked as he stood up. He immediately noticed his brother's mood.

"Do her nerves require calming?" Mycroft asked as he sat down in the chair that had once belonged to John Watson and he readied himself for a long and difficult conversation.

Sherlock returned moments later, tea tray in hand. "She's just anxious to get back to work." He knew his brother would see through the lie, but he had no intention of sharing his and Molly's intimate conversation with Mycroft. He knew he'd upset her that morning and though it hadn't been his intention, he did feel somewhat better having actually expressed his feelings. _Oh Lord... I have those now_. "Now, what's troubling you brother?" No point in beating around the bush.

Mycroft glanced up and tried to smile. "How much longer will Molly be in the shower?" he asked as Sherlock set down the tray.

"She should be finishing up," Sherlock replied as he handed his brother a cup of tea.

"I have some information I'd rather share with both of you at once, then I need to talk to you in private. If you don't mind." He took a drink of his tea and gathered himself. Just then he heard the bathroom door open.

"Mycroft, we weren't expecting you today," Molly said as she approached wearing a pair of Sherlock's sleep trousers and a tee-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. "Please excuse me, I've been cleaning all day."

Mycroft stood up to hug the woman who had saved his life. "You look lovely as ever my dear. On your worst day you shame every other woman on the planet," he said placing a kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"Stop flirting with my True One Mycroft," Sherlock scolded his brother, making both Molly and Mycroft roll their eyes as he patted his lap.

Taking the cup Sherlock offered, Molly sat on his knee and mumbled something about him being a possessive git.

"My brother has something to tell us." He was actually concerned; few things caused Mycroft Holmes distress.

"Where's Henry?" Molly asked settling in and getting comfortable as Sherlock draped an arm around her.

"With the nanny at Mrs. Hudson's. I needed your undivided attention for a few moments, forgive me." He took a deep breath. "Someone attempted to revive Anthea this morning. She didn't survive."

"She's dead?" Molly whispered.

"Indeed." Mycroft was well aware that Molly wanted to attempt to rid Anthea of her ability. She was convinced she could delve into the woman's mind and at the very least _try_ to eliminate her 'gift'. They had discussed it at length while she was still at the facility. She didn't support keeping the woman in a coma any longer than absolutely necessary. "But there is a much larger problem."

"Finding the traitors within your ranks," Sherlock stated flatly.

Mycroft nodded. He knew his brother would have quickly figured out why he was really there. "Of course we apprehended the agent who made the ill-fated attempt this morning, but there could be more. I'm in need of your assistance Molly..."

"No," Sherlock said as he tightened his grip on Molly hip.

Molly looked between the brothers. Mycroft could see that she was quite tempted to read them both. Then he saw the realisation dawn on her. "You need me to help you interview your people? You need me to read them, see if they're telling the truth."

"Yes, it would be ideal."

"And dangerous," Sherlock added. "We have no idea if Anthea told anyone about Molly. Putting her in the middle of a hundred agents, any of whom could be aware of her ability..."

"Sherlock, no one knows about my telepathy. And I _want_ to help," Molly interrupted looking at him.

He ignored her and glared at his brother. "She will be completely protected. Her safety will be of the utmost importance," Mycroft tried to reassure him.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Can you _guarantee_ her safety to me Mycroft? Can you absolutely promise me that no one will find out what she can do and exploit her or harm her?"

Mycroft said nothing. He knew there was a risk, of course there was. And as much as he wanted to protect his brother's True One (and the woman who had pulled him from the depths of his own mind), he knew it was the only way he could find any and all threats to his organization, to the general population. "I cannot. But I will not be making anyone aware of her new gift. I'll bring her in as my new personal assistant. That will be a good enough excuse for her to be present for the staff interviews. She will report only to me about what she reads from the agents and nothing will be official." The number of national security laws he was about to break was staggering, but it was for the greater good.

Molly stood up. "_She_ is right bloody here, thank you very much, and quite tired being referred to as _she_." Taking a deep breath, she paced across the room.

Sherlock quickly stood up and followed her, though he kept his distance. "I do apologize, Molly. Even I can see that that was a bit not good. However..."

Molly turned and put a hand on his arm. "No, I understand your concern Sherlock. But Mycroft's right. I can be helpful here and frankly I want to do it." She smiled up at the man she loved, clearly trying to implore him to trust her. "Haven't I proven that I can take care of myself?"

"I know you can, Molly. I..." He sighed and pulled her in for a tight hug. "God, I just got you back. If something were to happen..."

"Well, I'll have to be extra careful, now won't I?" she said, though it came out muffled since her face was buried in his chest.

"But you just promised me..." he started.

She pushed back and looked up at him. "I'm not going to hide under a rock, Sherlock. I said I wouldn't leave you, and I meant it. But you have to trust me. Surely you trust Mycroft."

His brother cleared his throat. The couple glanced in his direction to find him doing his best to blend into the wallpaper, clearly uncomfortable at witnessing such an intimate moment.

Sherlock looked back at Molly and he knew he was beaten. This amazing woman wasn't afraid of anything, she was strong and brave and determined. She smiled up at him and he shook his head. "Fine, you're too strong willed for me to try to fight. And anyway, I'd lose." He kissed her sweetly. "Why don't you go visit with Henry, since I know it's killing you that he's been in the flat below you all this time and you haven't sniffed his head yet."

She kissed him once more and practically ran down the stairs.

Sherlock took his seat once again and looked at his brother. "At all cost, brother mine."

"Without question," Mycroft simply said.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk about without Molly present?"

Mycroft took a deep cleansing breath and one last drink of tea, then he set it aside. "Has Molly mentioned what happened just before I woke up?"

"She did. Though she said I'd have to wait until you were ready to talk about it."

Mycroft nodded, not at all surprised that Molly wanted him to explain this to his brother. "Sherlock you know better than anyone how hard I've fought my nature. I'm not ashamed of being gay, but it is a complication in my current situation. In reality, no more of a complication than sentiment itself. But while you were away on the mission, I allowed myself to... His name was Xavier, he was an agent, he was so beautiful." Mycroft took a moment to collect himself. Sherlock said nothing. "We should have kept our distance. I should have known better. He was my agent, my responsibility. It was completely unprofessional. But there you have it. It seems the heart doesn't care about protocols or national security. I should have transferred him to another division or found him a desk job. I did suggest it, but he refused. It's hard to tell them no, isn't it?" he added wistfully then quickly gathered himself once again. "As best as I can piece together, some of it is still spotty mind you, at some point Anthea must have felt threatened by Xavier's presence in my life. Perhaps he was taking up too much of my time, really, I have no idea what her motivation was, but she saw an opportunity and she took it." Mycroft tried to go on, but suddenly found it very difficult.

Sherlock saw the anguish in his brother's demeanor; the hunch of his normally straight shoulders, his downcast eyes, the way he was struggling for his words. He needed to encourage Mycroft to continue; even though it was painful, this was clearly something that needed to be discussed. "What opportunity was that, Mycroft?"

"Ah, she compelled me, it seems to send him on the mission that was meant for you, Sherlock. He's gone." Mycroft's eyes were fixed on the floor. "I killed him. Or sent him to his death, as it were. Either way, it was me..." He quickly looked up. "I had every intention of getting you out..." He looked back down as a tear escaped his eye. "I think. Though my thoughts were not my own. I wouldn't have allowed you to be killed, brother. But had I been in possession of my own mind, I wouldn't have allowed him to be killed either." He retrieved a handkerchief and cleaned his face.

Sherlock allowed Mycroft to collect himself knowing that such a show of emotion, even after the events of the last few weeks, was extremely rare for the usually stoic man. While his brother got control of his emotions, Sherlock considered something- well several things actually. Finally when Mycroft seemed more like himself Sherlock spoke up.

"I have questions," he said.

"Of course."

"When did you lose contact with him?" Sherlock asked.

His brother thought for a moment, clearly struggling with his memory. "As best as I can remember and according to the intel we've gathered, it was roughly two weeks after he left."

"I assume he was a competent agent?" Mycroft nodded. "Don't you find it odd that you lost contact so quickly?"

"Six months was a best-case scenario, Sherlock, it was the longest I estimated you'd survive." He looked across the room. "Although... you have a point." He shook himself. "I can't, Sherlock. I can't get my hopes up. He's gone. It's been months. I'm sending in a team to try and find his remains."

"Was he successful?" Sherlock inquired.

"He took out the target within the first ten days. We lost contact shortly thereafter."

Sherlock knew what he was considering was probably a horrible idea, but he couldn't help himself. "Let me go in with the team. He may have survived and if anyone can pull him out you know it's me."

Mycroft looked at his little brother as if he'd lost his mind. "Absolutely not!"

"You know it's a good idea, Myke," he said contradicting his own thoughts. "I can do this..."

"And send you into a dangerous situation? One that you narrowly escaped, the _mission_ that could have- would have killed you? Are you insane?"

"He eliminated the threat."

"At the cost of his life, Sherlock. Do you suppose I want to lose my brother along with my True One?" Mycroft shouted.

"He was an Advantis?"

"Yes, of course. I... noticed him after a round of testing." He felt suddenly embarrassed considering the implication.

"Mycroft think! If he's one of us, his chances of having survived are much greater. He very well may be alive. Allow me to go in with the team, and find him for you." He took a deep breath. "I'm trusting you with my True One. Now, trust me with yours."

"You must consider Molly in this, Sherlock. You can't make this decision without her input."

Sherlock nodded, although he knew she would do anything for Mycroft and would want his Xavier returned to him, for better or worse. Sherlock stood up. "I will speak to her tonight. Make the arrangements."

"I cannot say I don't have reservations about this, however, I am deeply moved by what you're attempting to do for me." Mycroft got up and hugged his little brother.

"What in God's name did she do to your brain?" Sherlock said causing Mycroft to laugh as he walked out to retrieve his son.

* * *

Later that evening Sherlock and Molly were cuddled in bed. Sherlock had been trying to figure out exactly how to bring up the situation with Xavier. He actually felt guilty for wanting to leave her after making such a big deal about her helping Mycroft, not to mention the conversation they had just had that morning. He really should be here, in London, in case something happened. But he also felt compelled to do what he could to either find his brother's lover or bring him some closure.

"You know, even though I'm not_ trying_ to read you, when you're putting off such strong emotions like this I can't help but notice it," Molly said. "I may be telepathic now, but I'm still empathic as well. And that particular gift, as Mycroft calls it, seems to be highly attuned to you."

Sherlock smiled at her. "Is that you way of saying I'll never be able to hide anything from you, Molly May?"

"Why would you want to?"

He sighed. "Why indeed?"

"Just tell me what's on your mind Sherlock. Is it my helping your brother?"

Sherlock shook his head. "He told me about Xavier, Molly."

She sighed and hugged herself closer to his side. "Is he okay?"

"He will be. I... I want to go find him, Molly. I want to try to find Xavier."

She sat up suddenly and stared at him for a moment. "He's been missing all these months. Mycroft's certain that he's dead."

"You're correct. But I believe there's at least a chance that he survived. I'd like to try. I believe if anyone can get him out... it's me." He pulled her back down to him so that her head was once again resting on his chest. "And if not, I'd like to bring his remains back to my brother. I'd want..." He couldn't finish that sentence, it was just too unthinkable.

They lay in silence for several moments. Molly was tracing patterns on Sherlock bare stomach, Sherlock running his hand through her hair. Finally Molly sat up straddling his hips. "Are you asking my permission or telling me what you're going to do?" she said, placing her hands on his chest.

"I feel at this point in our relationship we should be on the same page in situations like this. Did I get that right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you did." She giggled.

Sherlock grinned broadly. "Do I get a reward?"

She sobered quickly. "You should go, of course. But understand that I will be one pissed off empathic, telepathic, pathologist and soon to be fake personal assistant if you get hurt or killed, Sherlock Holmes. Do you understand me?"

Sherlock nodded as he reached up to bring her face down to his for a passionate kiss. Molly gripped his hair as she sucked his tongue into her mouth and she kissed him as if her life deepened on it. They were both a bit breathless when it was over.

"I have one question for you," Molly said as Sherlock's mind slowly became his own once again.

"Anything," he said in a breathless whisper.

"Do I live here now?"

He chuckled. "You promised not to read my mind Molly. I _had _planned on asking properly."

"I didn't read your mind Sherlock," she said leaning back down only this time she kissed his left pectoral muscle instead of his lips. "I read your heart."

* * *

**_Okay, it's finally over. There is another story folks. Thank you all so much. I'd love to hear your final thoughts. This story is my heart and soul. Please, let me know what you think. ~Lil~_**


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